Amantes sunt Amentes
by Godell
Summary: Partners and lovers. Obsession and near-submission. Pleasure and pain. They were beyond the world's comprehension, but then lovers can be lunatics. This is the tale of Train and Creed before the fall. Creed x Train. FINIS.
1. Mirabile Visu

Hello. This is my very first fanfiction about Black Cat and its characters. This fic takes place before the series actually begins—five years before to be exact. Also for the first time in my fanfiction career this fic actually might warrant an 17+ rating, hence the "M" rating.

WARNINGS: Potential dark themes, adult situations (but not terribly graphic), Creed being his usual obsessive self. Oh, and yaoi. In case you're new to this sort of thing, yaoi means two men together in a non-platonic relationship. If that isn't your cup of tea, very well.

**Amantes sunt Amentes **

**By**

**Godell**

Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat. Only this plot.

**Chapter One: Mirabile Visu **

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Creed walked quietly to the room where the newest recruits for Chronos were waiting.

He wondered which one of the fifty would be the best suited to be his partner. Having no idea how old they were, his estimate was at that most were in their late teens, like him.

Creed sighed and gazed briefly out the tall window next to him. The world was still corrupt, no matter how many people he killed for Chronos. It was disappointing. No, perhaps it was heartbreaking. He couldn't decide.

_Oh well. There's more important things to worry about right now…like which one of these new recruits will actually take a shine to me._ Creed snickered and twirled the blood-red rose he held in his hand. _Not that that's ever been a problem before._

Creed had so far been through four partners, three of whom had suffered from unfortunate accidents, the fourth was slowly growing very boring.

Shaking his head he reached the large ornate doors, where the fifty recruits were waiting. Creed placed his rose in between his teeth, adjusted his white coat, and grinned.

_Show time._

With that, Creed pushed the doors open, making sure to look as dashing as possible in the process while having to exert himself a bit—Chronos had a habit of making certain doors ridiculously heavy, unweildly.

"Creed Diskinth has arrived!" a guard announced from inside the room.

The room was fairly plain by Chronos standards, but the figures inside the room were what Creed was interested in. They all looked fairly capable, though none of them had really caught his eye. He paced along the long line of recruits, taking them in. Several of them fidgeted. Most of them looked terrified of him.

Creed took the rose out of his mouth with a sigh.

"No, no, no. This lot won't work. I'll have to come back later."

The guard bowed. "Very well, sir."

The recruits began to troop out the door, looking disheartened. Creed twirled the rose , feeling a little sorry for them. After all, he was one of the pickier Erasers.

But then a pair of gold, catlike eyes, appearing like a flash of precious metal in a junk heap, caught his attention.

Creed walked over to a boy a few years younger than him, stalling for time. The boy had disorderly brown hair, light skin, and an expression that dared Creed to attack him. He signaled the boy. The boy's threatening posture relaxed slightly.

"One moment. I'd like to speak with this one." Creed told the guard.

The guard nodded and closed the door behind him, leaving the two alone.

Creed held the rose gently in his hand. "What's your name, boy? Both your real name _and _your code name, please."

The boy's gaze didn't falter. "Train Heartnet, Number XIII, Black Cat."

Creed's lips curled slightly. "Interesting name. _Train Heartnet._ I wonder if you're as good at catching and killing criminals as you are at enslaving hearts."

Train blinked. "I've never caught someone's heart before, sir. If I did, I wouldn't know what to do with it."

Creed laughed softly. "I didn't mean it _literally. _It was a joke. A pun."

Train nodded, though it was clear to Creed he didn't find it incredibly funny. "From your name, I'll bet you follow the rules."

It was Creed's turn to blink. Then he chuckled and moved closer to Train. "On the contrary. I live to _break _them."

Train's back was to the wall and Creed could smell the faint scent of blood on his skin…and a honey scent in his hair. He leaned down so that his head was level with Train's. The boy's gaze was faltering ever so slightly as Creed's rose brushed his cheek.

Creed barely heard the click.

"Don't move," Train whispered, his expression cold.

Creed found himself looking straight into the barrel of a heavy-looking weapon. He clearly saw the engraving of "XIII" in the gray orihalcum metal.

"Hmmm, very slick," he commented, tapping the gun. "What's it called?"

"Hades," Train replied stiffly, "and it's gonna fire a bullet straight into your—"

"Now, now," Creed said smoothly, gently easing the boy's finger from the trigger, "you shouldn't make assumptions like that. In fact, in the real world you should have shot me without answering the question. But I would have killed _you _first."

He pointed with his rose toward a particularly gaudy-looking vase a good ten yards away. "Fire at that, if you want to get some pent-up energy out of your system."

Train pointed Hades toward the vase, his expression grim. "When should I fire?"

"Now."

"Right." Train pulled the trigger.

Not only did the boy hit the original vase, but he also destroyed three shelves of them in rapid succession. Creed could barely hear the individual shots as they were fired. They hit the targets—_onetwothreefourfivesix_—and he found himself staring at a pile of shards and then at the smug expression of Train Heartnet, the Black Cat.

"Very good, Train," Creed commended, clapping slowly. "I'm impressed. I'll have to see what else you can do…later."

Train shrugged and packed his gun.

"If someone asks for you to be their partner, say no," Creed ordered, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Why?" Train asked. Creed grinned, noting that Train's hands were clenched into fists.

"Because I want _you _to be my partner." Creed answered simply, turning away from him. Before Train could say anything more, Creed placed his rose in the boy's hands. "As long as you have it, the world knows that I've chosen _you_."

"What if I don't want to be your partner?" Train asked coolly.

Creed grinned. "Who knows? Maybe something, maybe nothing. It all depends on how you refuse me."

Train's brow furrowed. "We'll see," he said to Creed's retreating figure.

"Thanks for the chat, Train," he called over his shoulder as he walked away. "The official partnership begins in two months, so you'll have plenty of time to get used to me. Perhaps I'll bring some catnip next time we meet…Black Cat."

Train's slightly-irritated voice reached Creed's ears after a brief silence. "See you then."


	2. Pari Passu

Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat.

**Chapter Two: Pari Passu**

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Train sat quietly on the roof of what was his dorm for the time being, lost in thought.

He gazed at the rose that he had placed in a milk bottle, pouring some water into the makeshift vase.

_It's wilting. _He frowned at the plant.

Train wasn't sure what to do about it. He had no idea where Creed Diskenth was, and therefore had no idea where to get another rose to replace the wilting one.

Train yawned. _I guess I'll have to find him. _

The moon shone above him, round and complete.

_Creed Diskenth. Why'd I let him even get close to me like that? I should've pushed him away, or told him to stop. But…_

But he remembered those strange, lightless blue eyes. They were like tunnels with nothing at the end of them.

_Maybe I wanted to see what he would do. And _then _I would push him away, him and those creepy eyes…_

Train shivered and leapt back into his room.

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The next morning Train sat with the remaining new recruits, learning the rules of being an Eraser.

They were fairly simple, as they were clearly designed for hoi polloi: Never leave an assignment unfinished, carry your weapon(s) with you at all times, respect the Chronos elders, learn to respect your partner, and _never _wish to be free.

Train and the recruits repeated the rules back to Sepheria Arks, the Commander of the Chronos Numbers. Her expression didn't change, but Train could see a faint look of satisfaction in her eyes.

Perhaps she was only satisfied with her choice to bring him into Chronos. That would make more sense than any other explanation.

"Dismissed," Sepheria suddenly called, turning and walking out the door.

The recruits left their seats and marched out of the spacious hall, Train ambling along behind them as usual. He took in the silver chandelier above him, decorated with Roman numerals just as the Numbers were decorated. White candles gave the room a flickering glow.

"Black Cat! You are _dismissed_." The door guard cracked his knuckles meaningfully.

Train smiled slightly and nodded, leaving the room. He would have plenty of time to explore other places.

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The sunlight filtered through the attic Train was exploring, and he watched the dust mites float tantalizingly in front of him.

Idly he tried to catch the floating specs, unable to see what he had captured due to the specs vanishing as soon as he snatched them up. He crouched down and watched the dust specs with rapt fascination, his hands flashing out and grabbing them randomly.

"How endearing of you, Train. You know, you're growing more fascinating by the second."

Train's eyes widened as a now-familiar red blossom appeared in front of his vision.

"Hello, Train. You know, I'm not sure you should be hanging out up here. If you peek through this little crack right here"—Creed pointed smugly with his rose to a small crack in the floorboards of the house Train had been exploring—"you'll find that the master and mistress of this house are...well, _celebrating_."

Train glared up at Creed, who was sitting comfortably on a wood beam only a few inches above him. "How'd you even get here, Creed?"

Creed indicated the open window with a tilt of his head. "The same way you did, my young friend. I'm glad you found this place, though. I was planning on showing it to you once we became partners—and once those two below us left—but I suppose fate has more beautiful plans in mind."

Train rolled his eyes. "Whatever." He crouched down beside the small crack and peered down. "What're they celebrating, anyway?"

Creed simply chuckled.

Train's eyes began to take in what looked like a bed, and two people lying on it, whispering something to each other. A woman's heart-shaped face suddenly came into view, her eyes closed and her blonde hair spreading out on the pillow. Her cheeks were flushed, and her arms wrapped around a man's back.

"Cr-Creed, we should leave, they're—" Train began, backing away.

"Ssh." Creed put a finger to his lips and winked, grinning impishly. "Don't worry Train, I won't force you to stay. I just want you to understand something."

Train glared and found that he couldn't move anyway. The scene below was too intriguing for a young man, even if said young man was a killer for hire.

There was a soft tap, and Creed was crouched beside him, looking down at the spectacle below them. Train watched Creed's eyes gain a slight gleam as the rose in his hand trembled.

"Look, Train," Creed said softly, "it's starting."

The woman let out a soft whimper as the man began to move slowly in a forward-and-back motion, his ragged breathing mingling with hers. The woman spoke what Train assumed was the man's name, her hands seeming to become slippery in the man's sweat.

"It's all right, just hold onto me…" the man said, his voice full of love.

The woman nodded, an adoring smile on her face.

Train watched as the woman wound her legs more tightly around the man's waist. Her legs were nearly flawless save for a small bruise on her knee. Her skin was a soft pink color, and it blended perfectly with the man's tanned body.

Train attempted to hide the physical changes he was experiencing himself, but Creed made no inclination that he was aware of it. In fact, Train had a feeling that Creed's coat was covering his own current problem—one sleeve was missing a pale hand.

"Look at them, Train," Creed said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Do you know what makes them special?"

"Their beauty?" Train whispered back, grinding his teeth together as he willed the feeling to stop.

Creed smiled patronizingly. "That's a…nice observation, my Heartnet, but no. You see they both have power."

Train gave him a questioning look, half turning his body away. He could hear the couple down below well enough anyway.

"The woman is the daughter of a powerful business tycoon, and the man is well-known for his looks and 'prowess', shall we say." Creed's shoulders shook with laughter at the disgusted expression on Train's face. "But put them in bed together, and they are both equal. They move in rhythm, they cry out each other's name…"

Without realizing it, Train's hands were becoming occupied.

"Close your eyes, Train."

Train obeyed, listening to the sounds of the lovers and the smooth, seductive tone of Creed's voice.

"Do you wonder what it would be like, Train, to have you and Sepheria on the same level? Sepheria, the powerful. The rule-abiding. The respected Sepheria entwined with you? There would be no rules, Train. Only pleasure, fulfillment. And no one to stop you."

The image invaded Train's mind, and he couldn't make it disappear.

Creed's voice became strained, and Train could hear him move slightly. "You and I, we've always been ahead of everyone else. I've read the files on you, Train. You were the strongest of the recruits, no contest. You are the perfect lone hero. Your story is so tragic and beautiful, Shakespeare himself could have written it."

"Stop being so dramatic, Creed," Train whispered furiously, his cheeks gaining a pink tint.

Creed chuckled. "Oops. Sorry, it's the poet in me." He didn't sound very sorry at all.

The woman and man's voices grew louder, more intense. Train tilted his head back, suddenly feeling despicable.

It was as though Creed had read his mind. "It's not your fault, Train. It's the fact that you've never really known someone to touch you in such a way. You have a…way about you, a feeling that makes people uneasy."

Train felt his heart sink slightly. Was he that different from the rest of the world? Was he truly feared?

"But I'm not like them, Train," Creed said, his voice soothing. "I want to be your friend, your partner…your equal."

The woman let out a cry of pleasure, and Train felt the floor creak slightly in Creed's direction. He waited with bated breath, but the lovers didn't stop.

"You wouldn't be alone anymore, Train…" Creed's words were like syrup in Train's ears. "All you would need to do is find me—I wouldn't be far away. If I was gone at all. Wouldn't you want to be a part of a whole? To be my partner?"

The last sentence was nearly drowned out by the lovers' united finish. Very faintly, Train could hear a muffled sound next to him that sounded suspiciously like a sigh.

It was at that point that Train completely lost any composure he had left. His body went slack as he experienced a feeling of relief. He shakily got to his feet, heading toward the window.

He turned back to look at Creed, who was lying on the floor, his rose in between his teeth. Train sat on the windowsill, watching silently as Creed stared at him with a smug, half-lidded expression.

"You're sick, Creed."

Creed winked. "Oh, and you're not, my Black Cat? You certainly make a fine voyeur, just as I thought. Oh, and by the way"—he tossed Train the new rose—"I think you might need this."

Train, unable to hide the blush from his face, replied "We're going to have to make some rules if we're to be partners."

As he left he heard Creed's answer: "Your wish is my command, Train. Always."


	3. Obiter

Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat, only Creed's "partner".

**Chapter Three: Obiter **

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Creed idly slashed open the body of his latest foe of the mission, not really paying much attention to the dark-red blood that spattered across his white jacket.

He watched the man fall, eyes wide with shock as blood seeped out of him. Creed stepped over the slowly dying body, listening quietly for any more guards heading toward him. Sure enough, a group of guards charged forward, yelling loudly enough to wake up everyone within ten miles.

"People need their sleep, you know," Creed's reprimanding tone was the last thing the guards heard as he ripped them apart with Kotetsu, his precious sword.

The death count grew as Creed strolled leisurely toward his destination, killing anyone he found along the way. The mission's harem of young women wasn't spared—though they put up a good fight in their own way—and the mission's most trusted followers were soon nothing but bleeding bodies on the fine carpets.

"Such a waste of good furniture," Creed sighed as yet another corrupt politician was stabbed in the heart without a second thought, his arms still straining to get his oily, pole-thin body out of the leather chair.

A few minutes later, Creed found himself in the same room with the man he had been ordered to kill. The man was shivering in terror, a wet puddle lay beneath him. Creed watched him for a moment, eying the open safe nearby.

"Ah, yes, the precious artifacts. If I remember correctly"—Creed tapped his index finger against his chin as though to remember something—"you stole those from a group of young explorers. They were going to sell them to a charity, if I remember correctly. True?"

The man began crying and fell down on his knees begging for mercy. Creed raised an eyebrow and watched the man create yet another stain on the carpet. The man's eyes were wide with fear as he stared up at Creed…begging, still begging.

"Please, spare me!" the man wailed, barely able to choke out the words.

Creed smiled. "So _terribly _sorry, sir, but I simply can't." His smile turned malicious. "Farewell."

The man let out a pathetic gurgle as Creed's Kotetsu pierced him in the neck. Creed slowly dragged the sword down through the man's body, watching the dark blood ooze out of him. With a quick, vindictive twist and wrench Creed pulled Kotetsu out of the man's body as it pitched lifelessly forward.

Creed blew softly on the rose in his hand making the petals float around the room, only partially masking the scent of blood. The smell was far too sickly-sweet for his delicate senses…but the salty tang of blood on the skin…and it created such a marvelous color!

_That _was perfectly fine.

Suddenly Creed heard his current "partner" struggling up the stairs. With a sigh he headed toward the stairwell, humming "Moonlight Sonata" to himself. The girl truly was growing useless.

He leaned against the gold railing as the girl limped up to meet him. She was in terrible shape: one bullet had found it's way into her stomach, the other into her ribs. The poor thing could barely move. Creed was surprised she had almost made it that far.

"You used to look so pretty," Creed commented sadly to the girl, who stared up at him with disbelieving brown eyes. "And now look at you. You're barely able to stand."

The girl's dark hair was matted to her skin as she crawled toward him, her expression just as pleading as the man before. "Please, Mr. Diskenth, help me!"

Creed winced at the high-pitched screech she made as she struggled up the steps.

"All right, calm down," he said coolly, stepping down to help her.

The girl's expression was filled with relief as he held out his hand. "Thank you, Mr. Diskenth. Thank you so much."

_Cowardly little tramp. _

Creed gave her a superficial smile in return, carrying her bridal style down the stairs and out the door.

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Creed watched the heart monitor beside the girl's bed, bored.

_I can't believe there's nothing to do but sit and watch this girl die. _He yawned. _Everyone knows I don't care if this tramp dies or not…everyone but the girl herself. _

He didn't mind having a girl partner. Depending on who the girl was, they could be dependable, strong, and willing to help out in a pinch. They also didn't mind Creed's poetic streak, for obvious reasons.

But _this _one…

Almost as soon as they became partners, the girl offered herself to him. Naturally Creed accepted—and the girl had lain so still the next morning Creed had thought he had killed her. She was too delicate and conforming to be of any real fun.

She was his second "lover" and even disappointing in that regard.

_Still, _Creed thought with a maliciously gleeful look in her direction, _she knows how to use her hands for more than just holding a sword…_

"Mr. Diskenth?" the girl called, her voice barely above a whisper.

Creed stood up from the uncomfortable white chair and walked over to her bed. He stared briefly at the bandages. "What is it?"

The girl smiled up at him, her eyes glinting faintly in the hospital light. "I'm almost healed. Soon we'll be able to go on missions again. Won't that be great?"

Creed smiled superficially at her again. "Certainly." _Not. _

The girl beamed, her hands clasped. "I'm so glad! It's getting to be so boring just lying here."

Creed nodded. "Understandably."

The girl's look suddenly became what she probably assumed was sultry, and Creed had to grind his teeth into a grin to keep his laughter from escaping.

On reflex Creed glanced toward the door and windows. There were no doctors about, much to his relief—no one knew of Creed's relationship with the girl, which was a good thing. It would have tarnished his reputation even more so than it had been already.

"We can do other things, of course. Much more _fun _things." The girl reached for Creed's hand and gingerly pressed it against her chest.

Creed frowned. "But you're injured."

The girl giggled. "That didn't stop you before."

"True, true." Creed bent down and kissed the girl's mouth, feeling revolted as she attempted to kiss him the "best way" as she called it.

No matter how many times he told her, she never listened to the obvious fact that he did _not _like someone's tongue in his mouth. It wasn't romantic at all—but then the girl didn't seem to understand the concept of "romantic" anyway.

Creed let his mind wander as he broke the kiss, thinking about the events from two days before.

_Train Heartnet listening to Creed's words as the lovers below fulfilled their desires, his lithe body curled ever so slightly, one ear cocked as he listened. _

_Train Heartnet's beautiful golden eyes, looking so confused and flustered as he turned to leave the attic and so very different from the deadly look Creed couldn't wait to see._

_Train Heartnet's naïve blush that he was unable to hide, the way he held the rose with such gentleness. _

As the girl made pointless small talk, Creed thought of the Partnership Ceremony. What could he give Train? A rose was obvious, of course, but he had already given Train two roses—they wouldn't be as special. Perhaps something for his gun…a new holster? Perhaps. It had to be something that symbolized their future teamwork…

"_Thank you, Creed. I'll treasure this…"_

Creed's smile widened. _To hear those words would be heaven. To know he'd use the gift in one way or another would be Eden itself._

His mind continued to wander, his imagination going through his ideal future:

_Creed and Train, side by side, slaying not for Chronos but for their freedom._

_Creed painting a portrait of Train with the blood of the Chronos Numbers._

_Creed and Train in the midst of a bloody battlefield, Train's catlike grace in perfect symmetry with Creed's movements as the enemies fell in their own blood and bile._

The girl suddenly spoke. "Am I your greatest partner?"

Creed blinked. He sighed and turned away slightly, the picture of a man trying to say how he felt.

He glanced at the heart monitor. It was beeping rapidly, and the girl's face was flushed.

An idea struck him. A romantic, heartbreaking tragedy of an idea.

Creed turned to face her, the superficial smile back on his face. The girl stared at him adoringly, her brown eyes wide. The heart monitor's pace increased.

"No."

The girl's eyes began to lose the light in them. Her mouth was agape in stunned surprise. She tried to speak, but nothing came out.

To Creed's delight, the nurses were still busy elsewhere. When a nurse turned his way, he pulled down the drapes, signaling that the patient was growing tired.

"You're not a partner, you're just a co-worker. A stress reliever. A _real _partner is more than that. A _real _partner is someone to respect. Yes, you fell in 'love' with me, but that was _months _after you practically handed your body over to me. I don't even know your name, did you know that?"

The girl finally spoke. "But…but I _did _tell you my name, I'm—"

"You are not my equal. You're a nuisance." Creed spat. "You're like a puppet on a string—I tell you to enter the mission's house first. And you do. If I told you to charge straight into a horde of thugs, you would."

The girl gaped.

"You would carry a metal detector in a thunderstorm if I asked you."

Creed watched the heart monitor begin to slow. _Good. There are probably more criticisms that I haven't thought of yet, but she gets the idea._

"Now, Train Heartnet," Creed continued, giving his voice a softer edge, "_he _is a true partner. Powerful abilities, grace, speed, a get-things-done attitude…he has everything I could want. I understand him, and I think he just might be my equal. And his eyes…they can be so cold, yet so human. He's full of paradoxes."

The girl was having trouble breathing. The heart monitor's beeping was growing faint. Creed smiled and pulled the covers up to the girl's chin.

"Train will be my partner soon, so you can rest in peace. It was…_fun _while it lasted, don't you agree?" Creed chuckled at the girl's disbelieving expression.

"N-no…please don't…" The girl's heart rate suddenly sped up again.

Creed felt a small blister of rage grow in his heart. Still he managed to compose himself—after all, he had to stick to his original idea. It was simply too fun to pass up.

"Ssh." Creed covered the girl's nose and mouth with his hand, still smiling. "Now, now, don't fret. You won't have to deal with life as an Eraser any more." He pressed down harder, making the girl's eyes widen. "You were a wonderful, adoring little _thing_, but now it's time to let Train take over."

The girl's heart rate was almost nonexistent. Creed walked over to the uncomfortable chair and sat down in it, closing his eyes. He heard the nurse walk in and gasp in horror.

Creed jumped up, putting on his best concerned expression. "Is she alright?" he asked quickly, staring at the heart monitor.

The nurse gulped. "Sh-she's dying, Mr. Diskenth. I don't think she'll wake up."

The heart monitor flashed a negative. The girl was gone.

Creed frowned. "I see…where will she be buried?" he said as he turned away, his head bowed.

"In our cemetery, if you don't mind." The nurse's voice sounded comforting and motherly.

"…Yes, I think she would like that." Creed said softly. He walked over to the girl's fresh corpse, touching her head lightly. "Sweet dreams."

Creed spun on his heel and headed out the door, deciding to take the elevator. As the doors closed behind him, he checked the elevator for any security cameras. There were two.

He let out a shaky sigh and covered his eyes with one hand, his shoulders shaking. To anyone who watched the tape, it would look as though Creed was crying for the death of his partner, or at least feeling the weight of the death of a "friend" for the first time.

Creed's shoulders continued to shake as he leaned against the wall, turning his face away from the cameras. He searched his pockets for his rose and found it, a sudden burst of red in the monotone grey of the elevator. It was, in Creed's opinion, a scene worthy of an artist.

He finally allowed his lips to unfurl into a wide, malicious grin that was almost painful. His shoulders continued to shake in silent laughter as the elevator continued its descent.

_Now, Train, _Creed thought gleefully, _we can be together._


	4. Svi Generis

Happy New Year everyone! I hope 2009 is as fun and adventure-filled as possible!

Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat, only the Partnership Speech and Train and Creed's gifts.

**Chapter Four: Svi Generis**

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Train readjusted his black suit, breathing in slowly.

It was time for the Partnership Ceremony. The special room designed for such occasions had finished being decorated only two days before, according to the other new recruits, and Train hoped Creed hadn't played some part in the décor. He had a feeling Creed would have gone a little…_overboard _with decorating.

Train sighed, picking up the box he had wrapped himself. The wrapping looked childish, and clumsy, but it would have to do.

Trumpet fanfare blared from behind the heavy doors and Train groaned. He felt like a bride before a wedding, or worse. Maybe graduation was similar to the Partnership Ceremony…Train wouldn't be able to tell the difference.

"Introducing Train Heartnet, Number XIII, The Black Cat, one of only three recruits to have been chosen for partnership!" a herald cried, his voice nearly lost in the trumpets.

Train marched through the doors, ignoring the staring faces around him. Sepheria's gaze caught his eye, and again he wondered how she really felt about him. Was he an acquaintance or just a tool? The room was brightly lit with what looked like hundreds of candles, and Train had to turn away from the glare.

Creed was waiting on a dais, his own gift held ready in his hands. He looked as confident as ever, but Train could see his fingers drumming against the box nervously.

_But why would he be nervous? _Train thought, confused. _It's not as though the Chronos Leaders are—_

The large screens behind Creed caught his attention, and Train understood. They _were _at the Ceremony. Why wouldn't they be? He was the only Number XIII in their ranks. No, more than that: he was the only XIII to have ever _existed. _

Finally Train was beside Creed on the dais. They stood across from each other. Creed cleared his throat and held out his gift as the fanfare subsided. Train knew what was coming next: the famous Partnership Speech.

"Train Heartnet," Creed began, his voice ringing in the now silent hall, "_I have seen your skills and tested them, I have looked upon you and seen a companion, a follower, a partner._"

Creed's lips curled into a small smile as he gazed at Train, his lightless blue eyes glinting slightly in the candlelight.

"_Together for Chronos we shall right the wrongs of this world and bring about peace for this world. I will guard your back, and with you we will carry out the plans we have created together._"

Creed paused.

"_You shall be the blooming red rose in the darkness, and I shall be your caretaker. While I am around, nothing will deny your determined goal._"

Train nodded solemnly, and continued, saying:

"Creed Diskenth," Train gazed at Creed's serious expression, reflecting his stare. "_You have seen me as an equal, and for that I am grateful. I have looked upon you and seen a guide, a leader, a partner. Together for Chronos we shall fight until we can fight no more, and bring about peace for this world. I will be the muscle, and you shall be the mind. Together we will form a single entity, from now until we die._"

Train felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as they continued to the last part of the speech together:

"_We are partners. Where one goes the other will follow. If one falls off the path of peace in life—both in the world or in their hearts—the other will find them and bring them back to the light. We shall protect each other from corrupted ways. Together, we will fight until the end, even if Hell itself comes upon us in the night. By the might of Chronos…_"

Train took a deep breath. Creed chuckled softly.

"…_We are now partners!_"

The audience erupted into applause as the two exchanged gifts. Behind them—as the Chronos Leaders vanished into static—another large door was opened, and Creed and Train exited the room.

"That was very good, Train," Creed said casually, grinning at the gift. "And you didn't even mess up once. Or at least I don't think you did."

Train rolled his eyes. "You adlibbed the last part of your speech, didn't you? The thing about the rose…"

Creed laughed aloud. "Good, wasn't it? Not even Sepheria noticed the difference."

A wry smile crossed Train's face for an instant. "You'd better hope not. Somehow I don't think she'd be very forgiving toward anyone messing with tradition."

"In this case, it's a _good _tradition. Now, then"—Creed sat down in the middle of the hallway and began to open Train's gift—"let's see what my Black Cat has given me."

Train blinked. "But Creed, we're in the middle of the—"

Creed just laughed it off. "Nobody's going to interfere. Not with _us._"

Train watched as the brown paper was tossed aside and the grey box was opened. To his surprise, Creed's smile grew wider as he pulled out the new black sheath for Kotetsu. There was a gold rose blossom painted with delicate strokes onto the middle of the sheath, and red vines entwined the rest of the sheath from top to bottom. Train had thought it would be beautiful when it was done, and he was glad he'd been right.

"…Train, where did you get this?" Creed asked lovingly, running his hands along the sheath in a way that reminded Train of a child. "It's so beautiful…"

Train allowed himself a smug look. "I made up the design and sent it to a craftsman here in town. I told him to take all the time in the world—it _had_ to look good."

Creed smiled up at him, and Train's mind flinched at the unnerving grateful and _devoted _look in Creed's eyes—as though Train had granted him his fondest wish.

"Thank you," Creed whispered, placing Kotetsu into its new sheath with tender care.

Train sat down beside Creed and began to open his gift. It was wrapped carefully, as though the contents were very fragile. He tried not to look at Creed, whose eager gaze was bordering on the manic. Pulling off the lid of the gold box, Train stared in awe at what was inside.

In three perfect rows was a collection of gold bullets. They gleamed in the dim light, the black paint depicting the face of a cat on each like freshly-spilt oil. As expected, a red rose served as the background for each of the cat faces, blood red and beautiful.

"They're made of Orichalcum, like Hades," Creed said softly as Train picked up one of the bullets and weighed it in his hand. "They won't miss, Train. I've made sure of that. I measured the impact myself."

"Tell me you didn't shoot yourself," Train said with a hint of annoyance.

Creed shook his head. "Oh, no, no. I used a few samples on targets…though I'm not exactly excellent at marksmanship. If you want"—Creed smiled suggestively—"you can try them out on our first mission."

Train nodded. "Will do." Carefully he slipped the bullets into a holster that seemed far too _ordinary _for them and turned back to Creed. "Now what?"

Creed shrugged. "Now we go to my house."

"…Your _house?_" Train asked incredulously. "I thought you had a dorm or something."

Creed snickered. "No. I'm not supposed to be living in Chronos headquarters. The one time I did was…_memorable._"

He held out his hand. "Shall we go, my Heartnet?"

Train yawned. "Sure, why not?"

Together they headed toward the next patch in the stitched-together rag of their lives.


	5. Aude Sapere

This will probably be my last update until next weekend. Also (and maybe more importantly to you readers), I've only watched the anime, which doesn't as far as I can see give much information on how partners are chosen. I'm creating things to fit the plot, though if there are any significant details from the manga that would be useful, please tell me in your review. Thank you!

Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat.

**Chapter Five: Aude Sapere**

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Creed lead Train to his house, enjoying the comfortable feel of the new sheath at his side.

At first he had wondered why his Train had gone to such trouble to get him such a gift. His first thought—practically _reeking _of romanticism—was that Train was slowly growing more attached to him. Creed had entertained that thought for a very happy fifteen minutes, nearly dancing across the cobblestone roads that led to his house.

…And then Creed realized that the more logical reason would be because (to the "normal" eye) he was insane. According to his files in the Chronos directory, he had some sort of "abnormal" personality, and either sadism or masochism in his mental makeup. Possibly both.

Naturally, in order to please such an "unstable" person, anyone associated with him had to give him what he wanted. Creed had abused that idea once or twice in the past, but he didn't really want to use that idea on Train.

Creed had felt that he was the only "sane" person in an insane world—until he met Train. After a fair amount of research, he came to the conclusion that only such a powerful, incredibly perfect person would be able to truly understand him. Who wouldn't be scared of him.

Creed checked to see if Train was behind him. "Are you getting tired, Train?" he asked, stopping in front of a building.

Train shook his head. "I'm fine. Where's this house of yours, anyway?" he asked, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

Creed smiled and pointed to the building—a pastel-yellow townhouse with two floors and a miniature garden of roses and other flowers along a white balcony. Creed had even designed a cat-shaped bronze wind-chime on the porch, where it dangled from the ceiling above.

"_That _is our house, Train." Creed laughed at the expression on Train's face—there was only a slight hint of wonder on his face, as though he was trying not to look foolish.

"Really, Train, it's perfectly fine to be surprised." Creed walked up to the front door and unlocked it. "Come in," he said gallantly, inclining his hand.

Train warily went up the stairs and through the door.

Creed couldn't help but smile wider at Train's fascination with what was to be _their_ home. He watched Train walk across the polished oak floor as though afraid it would break under his feet, and eye the furnishings; the small round table, with curiosity. Train inclined his head toward the refrigerator.

"Go ahead and eat what you want, Train," Creed said, amused. "I've taken the liberty to buy some milk for you, too."

Train's stomach rumbled as he pulled out a bottle of milk and a pre-packaged onigiri, looking more childlike than Creed had seen him before. He watched as Train ate the food with the grace of a starving animal—something Creed could identify with intimately.

Creed mentally went over the other parts of the house. The bathroom was well stocked with every luxury Creed could afford. The living room had been refurnished with a leather couch that doubled as a love seat (in front of a TV with over 400 channels on it).

The bedrooms had…well, Creed had bought and plumped up the pillows himself. The beds had also received new downy mattresses and the warmest blankets he could find.

Creed had made _absolutely sure _that Train would be comfortable. Now that he had a new partner who was his _equal_, he wasn't going to let go of him easily.

"Do you want to see more of the house?" Creed asked, leaning against the wall.

Train chugged the last dregs of milk and put the bottle down with a sharp _clink. _"Sure."

Creed grinned and led Train throughout the house, enjoying the look on his face as they wandered room to room. Train insisted on looking through every nook and cranny—"To check for anything weird"—and Creed calmly went along for the ride.

Finally Creed led Train to the bedrooms. "Whichever room you want, Train. I've already moved my things."

Train paced back and forth in the two rooms, as though testing their feel. Finally Train settled on the one with the most windows—for obvious reasons. Creed gladly brought his things into the room next to his, and then surprised his new partner by bringing _Train's _few things out of hiding and into Train's room.

After saying their goodnights, Creed collapsed into his large bed, grinning from ear to ear.

It was a beautiful day, if not the best day of his life.


	6. Aurea Mediocritas

Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat.

**Chapter Six: ****Aurea mediocritas**

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Train awoke to the smell of crisp bacon and eggs wafting up from the kitchen.

He yawned and stretched in the style of a cat and pulled on his clothes, tempted to stay in bed instead of facing the day. But he might've had a Mission, and therefore he couldn't waste time. Train carefully cleaned Hades and double-checked the bullets. Thoughtfully he traced the cat face-and-rose insignias on the bullets Creed had given him the night before, counting them in silence.

_Let's see…three rows of thirty bullets…ninety total. I'll use them sparingly. _

Train placed the bullets back into his holster and stood up, ready to head downstairs.

"Oh good Train, you're up. I have breakfast here," Creed called from the door.

Train didn't even blink as he turned to face Creed, who was smiling at him and holding a silver tray with (as expected) bacon and fried eggs, milk, and a bowl of grapes. Train was surprised at how _normal _Creed looked in a pair of red satin pajamas.

He _had_ expected the peach-colored rose that lay so perfectly beside the milk. The sun's rays made it glow warmly in the early morning light.

Train didn't bother to complain about the special treatment as he sat back down on the bed, warily watching as Creed placed the tray between them. He automatically picked up the fork that had been painstakingly placed in the center of a folded napkin.

Poking the eggs suspiciously, he ignored Creed's indulgent chuckle.

"Relax, Train, I'm not going to _poison _you. Partners don't do that."

_I'm worried about a different sort of poison… _Train thought as he sniffed the milk.

Creed rolled his eyes and popped a grape into his mouth. If there was ever a way to chew in a sarcastic manner (in some etiquette book or other), Creed would have mastered the technique.

Train continued to stare at him as he swallowed the grape with an exaggerated look of satisfaction.

"You see? Why would I eat poisoned food?" Creed gestured welcomingly toward the tray.

Before Train could respond, Creed already had the fork in his hand with some egg loaded on it.

"For the last time, _eat_."

With a mixed look of amusement and slight impatience Creed forced the food into Train's mouth. Train felt his cheeks grow warm at the humiliating gesture, but ate the food anyway. The egg was warm, crackly on the edges and greasy on the inside. Creed had done a very good job cooking.

Creed laughed as Train took the fork from him and fed himself. "You see? That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Train rolled his eyes and continued eating. "Just don't do that again, Creed."

Creed nodded in acquiescence as the sun moved across his pale face like a wave on the seashore. Silence fell over them like a blanket save for the occasional _clink _of a fork being set down, or the sloshing sound as a wide-mouthed milk bottle was picked up. Outside, the world was waking up. Cars were beginning to honk, and children were chattering on their way to school.

"It's a new day," Creed said softly, smiling at Train. "A new day of partnership."

Train nodded. "I guess so. Thanks for the food anyway." He put the fork down. "Do we have a Mission yet?"

Creed grinned. "Oh, yes. A very special one, actually."

"When do we start?" Train stood up and patted his holster, confident as always that he wouldn't need much help.

Train watched as Creed twirled the rose thoughtfully in his hand, as though studying it from every angle.

Creed's grin grew more feral. "Tonight."

As Creed explained the objectives and the way to go about completing them, Train had to admit that the plan was perfectly designed.

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As soon as they had been discovered by the guards at the mansion, Creed began to systematically slaughter them, while Train headed toward the Mission's master bedroom.

A guard appeared in front of Train, ready to fire.

_Focus…pull the trigger. Fire._

The guard fell.

Several guards charged him in the next hallway, firing rapidly. Train dodged them all—though one bullet _did_ slice through his shirtsleeve at his shoulder, taking with it a thin layer of flesh. Without batting an eye he pointed Hades at them.

_Focus. Trigger. Fire._

After another round of bullets and almost as one, the group fell to the floor. Train was careful not to slip on the blood-soaked carpets.

The guards kept coming.

_Focus. Trigger. Fire._

_Focus. Trigger. Fire._

"It's the Black Cat—!" a man bellowed, his eyes bulging in fear.

Creed took care of him with a clean slice of Kotetsu, growling "You scum! You aren't worthy to even _think _his name!"

The mansion was in an uproar and through it all Train could see Creed behind him, cutting through the guards as if they were sticks of fat.

There were only so many rooms to search—the stupid, soon-to-be-dead crime lord had to be around _somewhere._

Then Creed was beside him, whispering in his ear:

"Third door on your left, next hallway."

Train nodded and kept going. He felt the world blur around him as he moved. He doubted Creed would keep up with him.

_Focus. Trigger. Fire._

He was wrong—Creed was a step in front of him, clearing the way for him as they passed. A homicidal escort.

He reached the bedroom where the Mission sat, the same look of fear Train had seen in every other man he killed. It was humorous, really, watching the idiot's neck muscles bulge as he gulped loudly. He looked pasty. And ugly—not even his fancy suit would save him now.

Train sensed Creed behind him, idly wiping his bloodied sword on the gilded drapery.

"Incredible, Train. Simply magnificent. I knew that you had to be good, but…" Creed sighed dreamily—and Train snorted at the strangled sound of yet another guard being gutted.

"Please! Please, d-don't kill me!" the man howled, practically groveling at Train's feet.

Train stared down at the pathetic man and wondered idly how long he'd been in the black market business. His drug ring was well-known and very popular in the richer areas of the city—popular enough that a well-known actress had been found dead in her bathtub only two days before from an overdose. It had definitely not been her lucky day. But then, it seemed trouble had a habit of finding even the best of people.

Creed walked over to Train and bent down to examine the man. "Hmm. A sort of poetic justice in this scenario, wouldn't you say Train? To have someone so incredibly _ugly _killed by the incarnation of beauty itself." The blood-red rose was in his hands again—a sickeningly sweet scent mixed with the smell of urine and bile, and Train had a feeling Creed had chosen such an ironic gesture on purpose.

A sudden phrase that was almost corny leapt to Train's mind as he aimed his gun at the man's head:

"I've come to deliver some bad luck."

_Focus. Trigger. Fire. _

His job was done.

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"Very well done, Train, especially with that phrase. 'I've come to deliver some bad luck'…" Creed said, flushed with a post-assassination delirium.

Train shrugged. "It's nothing special. It just sounded cool." He winced inwardly as he skirted a guard whose eyes were still open, seeing nothing.

No matter how many times he killed, Train could never truly get over the aftermath. Or at least he hadn't yet. Sepheria had told him he would become used to it, but Train didn't really believe that. He was tired, so, so tired, and the last thing he needed was someone complimenting his "skills".

Creed yawned and nudged a corpse out of his way. "Either way, it was perfect."

"You weren't bad yourself, Creed. Your plan worked pretty well." Train stepped lightly over another body and waited for Creed.

"Thank you, Train. That means a lot to me." Creed's childlike adoring smile was back in place.

Train glanced at the broken window beside him. The cold moonlight seemed to be seeping through it. The light, trickling down across the shards of glass and onto the floor, looked almost like spilled milk.

He focused on that strange image instead of the rotting, broken bodies around him.

"You have a wound." Creed's voice suddenly sounded worried and accusing.

Train shrugged and ripped off a piece of his shirt to bind the relatively minor wound. "It didn't seem like that big of a deal."

Creed was beside him then, sighing gloomily. "Train, Train, you're going to have to realize that as my partner—my potential _equal_—I don't want you to be hurt. Ever. Even the smallest wound might get infected if you wait too long."


	7. Pace Tua

And now, for what you readers have been patiently waiting for…

Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat. I do own Creed's house, and this plot.

**Chapter Seven: Pace Tua**

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"Now, then," Creed said smoothly, as an owl hooted mockingly in the distance, "let's see if there are any more wounds you didn't tell me about."

Creed felt Train stiffen as his hand brushed against his shoulder, then down his arm. He gently massaged the muscles that ran down his partner's body. Thankfully there were no further wounds.

Creed turned to Train's other shoulder, now humming under his breath as he worked. He grinned at the soft, enticing blush on Train's face as he brushed his hands across the lapel of Train's dark brown shirt.

_Lovely. So innocent, and yet he's got the experience of a trained killer, _Creed thought, grateful that there were no other wounds to be found on Train's arm.

"Would you like to check for any more wounds yourself?" Creed whispered in his ear, making him shiver.

"I'm fine," Train said coldly, pulling away from him.

Train walked briskly toward the door of the mansion with Creed behind him, as obedient as any soldier. They were almost to the door when Creed's footsteps—a little louder than Train's—suddenly stopped. Creed gasped softly. The pure moonlight that seemed to be shining only for Train added to the tone of his words.

"If you're tired, Train, I can warm up the bath for you when we get home." Creed was surprised his voice had maintained it's usual caring tone. He was feeling something far more than simple concern at the moment.

"I told you Creed, you aren't my servant. I'll get the bath myself." Train turned around and gave him a glare that usually sent everyone—Chronos members and foes alike—crawling for the nearest graveyard. "I can do things just fine on my own."

Creed didn't even flinch. On the contrary, his grin widened.

_Oh no you don't, my partner. You're tired, and in need of a companion. _

"Really, Train, I'm not inconvenienced at all. In fact, I _want _to care for you…if you'll do the same for me…"

Creed held out his arms in a gesture he knew was welcoming. He knew that Train found him confusing—and possibly unstable—but that was what being partners was all about—learning about each other's strengths and weaknesses, working together. In unity. Forever.

Train would come to understand Creed very intimately, and very soon.

"Train, I want to be your _everything. _And I will make sure that I will always be exactly what you want." Creed chuckled at Train's shiver. "For example…"

Train's back was to the wall, and Creed was mere inches away from him. It was a familiar position—nearly identical to their first meeting. But Creed knew what Train Heartnet was capable of, and since he knew…

"…You need a distraction from these corpses. I can arrange that."

Train's hands brushed against his holster.

Creed's hand snaked out and gently but firmly grasped Train's wrists. He marveled at their small size and coarse feel.

"It's been a long Mission today, and really all things considered you need something to relax you. Don't focus on the aftereffects of _this _dump. Think about that afternoon in the attic. What did you want then, Train?"

He watched Train's eyes flicker with understanding.

"I—I don't remember." Train growled out the lie. But his body didn't push Creed away. He was, as Creed had said, too tired.

"Of course you do. It says right in your file that you have an incredible memory for sensory events." Creed still didn't move—not that he needed to. "That feeling was wonderful, wasn't it? It was as if you had seen a different path…a brighter path."

Creed watched as Train's fingers twitched lightly in his grasp. Train's eyes grew dim, and Creed's fascination grew as the small, pink tip of his tongue wetted his dry lips.

In the death-filled silence of the mansion, Creed whispered "What do you want me to do, Train? I'll do whatever you say."

It was clear Train's mouth had spoken the words before his brain had comprehended their consequence:

"Kiss me."

Creed did.

Needless to say, Creed put everything he had into the kiss. He pressed his lips to Train's, softly at first. Train's lips had a sweet, uncorrupted taste and texture to them—as though they were molded from honey.

The kiss was everything Creed had hoped for: tender yet passionate with barely controlled desire. And—much to his relief—Train hadn't used his tongue to deepen the kiss. Creed let his grip grow slack and freed Train's wrists. His euphoria grew as Train's hands pressed onto his shoulders, pulling him closer.

Train broke the kiss, his eyes unfocused. He was breathing hard. His eyes turned toward a nearby corpse. He froze, and turned back to Creed.

"Do that again," Train ordered, his gaze steely.

Creed raised an eyebrow. "The kiss?"

"No, I want you to grab my hands again."

_Ah, looks like I have an 'Alpha Tom' on my hands… _Creed snickered and kissed Train again, getting a sharp thrill as Train's fingers dug into his shoulders.

_He truly is perfect._

The rose in Creed's hand brushed against the XIII tattoo on Train's collarbone. Train made a muffled noise through the kiss, and Creed watched his partner's beautiful golden eyes glow softly.

Reluctantly, Creed broke the kiss and asked, barely able to hide his satisfaction,

"So then, Train, do you still doubt me?"

Train didn't say anything—he only led the way back to their house, his movements surprisingly sluggish.

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Creed warmed up the bath just as he had promised, and even scattered three baskets of rose petals in the warm water for flavor.

He calmly walked out of the bathroom as Train walked in—but not before brushing his hand against Train's cheek. Laughing to himself at the flustered reaction he had caused, Creed softly closed the door behind him, letting Train have his privacy for a little while.

A quick glance over his shoulder told him that the vanilla-and-honey scented candles were still burning pleasantly.

Creed knew full and well that Train would want company, especially after the events at the mansion. Alone in his room, he stripped off his clothes and idly grabbed a white bathrobe from his closet. He then selected one of the coral-colored roses from a glass vase he had made himself.

_Perfect._

Creed picked up a book of poetry and read silently, patiently waiting. He knew it wouldn't take long before Train called for him after a few minutes of quiet and after the glass of warm milk that he had provided. Creed had learned warm milk had a relaxing affect on Train…and others.

Fifteen minutes and six sonnets later, Creed walked to the bathroom. He had waited long enough—Train might even be asleep in the tub.

Knocking politely at the door, Creed sauntered in without pausing and grinned at the sight of Train lying comfortably in the bath. The water was brushing against Train's flushed skin, the XIII tattoo on his chest was even more boldly pronounced than usual. His eyes were closed, and his chocolate-brown hair was dripping with rhythmic water droplets. The rose petals obscured most of his lower body, much to Creed's amusement. They rose and fell with every breath Train took, moving gently to and fro.


	8. Pace Tua Part II

Due to what will be a very hectic week, this will probably be my last update for a while (unless I finish Chapter Nine by tomorrow). Enjoy this—originally this had been a part of Chapter Seven, but due to its length I decided to make it separate.

**Chapter Eight: Pace Tua Part II**

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_It's as though the patron of the arts wants me to witness his beauty with patience. Well, I can do that too. _Creed easily slid the robe off his body and stepped into the bath, the rose still in his hand.

The "bathtub" was a Jacuzzi and took up most of the room—save for the sink and other essentials, and a set of drawers. It was the best money could buy (or in Creed's case, bribe), and Creed had "bought" it for Train alone.

Creed sighed as the Jacuzzi bubbles massaged his back and shoulders. One of his foes had slammed into him in a desperate attempt to get to Train, but they failed (and died) wonderfully. Still, he had a very sore back.

Creed shook his head and focused on Train. _I have more important things to worry about. _

The water sloshed against him gently as he moved closer to Train. He smiled at the way Train's eyes flickered open, still drowsy. Creed, now beside him, leaned back on the marble ledge, one arm behind his head in a relaxed posture.

With his other, and reaching out, he gently brushed the rose blossom across Train's lips.

"Enjoying your bath?" Creed asked.

Train's head swiveled around to face him. "What're you _doing_?" He moved away.

Creed laughed. "It's more practical to bathe together, Train. We won't waste water this way."

Train rolled his eyes. "Like I'd believe _that. _And anyway, isn't kissing enough for you?" The way he attempted to shield himself was in Creed's opinion endearing.

"If it's enough for _you_," Creed said truthfully, grinning as he cupped a handful of rose petals and let them seep through his fingers tantalizingly. "I won't do anything you don't want me to do, Train."

He felt Train's eyes on him as the rose petals hit the water with soft, barely-audible _plops. _He turned to gaze at him. Train was staring at him with uncertainty.

Creed slid off the ledge and deeper into the water. He closed his eyes and continued speaking, making his voice as smooth and as hypnotic as he possibly could:

"Train, you have become my partner, and therefore you have to understand me. In return, I will understand you, and together we'll achieve happiness. In order to be happy, you need someone else to be happy. That's one of the commandments I live by, Train."

Creed opened his eyes to find that Train was staring at him in fascination now, his golden eyes wide and curious.

"If you want, we can test that theory."

Creed picked up a washcloth that was hung on the edge of the Jacuzzi and moved closer to Train. He dipped the washcloth into the water and rung it out slowly.

Train stiffened as Creed brushed the cloth gently over his face. Train didn't move. It was clear to Creed that Train was becoming enraptured. Creed smiled and brought the cloth down his neck, then over his shoulder…

"Raphael would kill to paint this scene, Train." Creed, daring to kiss Train's chest, said "Happiness is also art. It is beauty. Creation."

Train's breath hissed out of him sharply as Creed paid special attention to his upper body, discovering what excited him before continuing further.

He brought the cloth to Train's stomach, and much to his glee Train automatically adjusted himself so that he sat on the edge of the tub, his body fully exposed, save for a few rose petals that clung to his flushed skin. Creed gazed up at Train's glazed expression and wished he had his paints at the ready.

"Train," Creed said softly, resting the cloth on Train's hip. "Can you guess what I plan to do now?"

Train shook his head, his hands clenched.

Creed slid the cloth and grinned at the small whimper that left Train's mouth, followed by an annoyed growl.

"How does it feel?" he asked, chuckling at Train's vocal responses.

Train let out another whimper, beginning to jerk forward impatiently. "Quit playing around, you teasing bastard…"

Creed paused and stared up at him, giving him a stern look. "Now Train, you shouldn't call your partner names." To prove his point, he reached up and pinched one of Train's nipples, making him gasp. "Say your sorry, or I'll leave you like this. And I won't warm up the water, either."

Train growled out his refusal, and Creed pinched harder. Without warning Train slid back into the water with a splash, sending the rose petals floating away from him in waves.

Train looked ready to fight him. Creed didn't want that. Creed could easily overpower him, or at least put up a decent struggle. But he wanted Train to become his lover. Willingly.

Now was the best time to teach Train the rules of sleeping with one's partner. Trust was everything. Love was everything. _Creed _was everything, just as Train was everything.

"That hurt," Train said coldly, with a hint of sullenness.

"Sorry." Creed turned away from him, watching the petals merge into small crimson islands. "It's just that you're my equal, and…I don't want to be alone."

There was silence for a moment, and Creed waited patiently.

Finally, Train said tersely "Sorry, Creed. It's fine."

"Good." Creed smiled at him. "Now then…"

This time Creed didn't even bother with the cloth. He used his hands to guide Train forward, watching Train's face take on a delightful almost-pleading look. Creed savored the expression, prolonging the "teasing" as Train called it.

He frowned when Train turned away, his cheeks a beautiful crimson.

"Train, don't turn away from me."

Train growled and shook his head. "Not a chance."

"Oh? Do you want me to…?"

When Train didn't reply a second later, Creed took that as a yes.

"Here we go, then."

Creed closed his eyes and inwardly thanked whatever divine being there was that Train had allowed him access to him in such a way.

Sparks of passion coursed through Creed's body. When he heard Train _call his name_, nothing else in the world mattered.

It was over far too soon.

They sat in silence for a few moments. The fuzzy warmth of the aftermath was something Creed had never experienced before. With his previous lovers, making love had either been for stress relief or out of boredom. With Train, he had a _reason _for his actions.

_Train Heartnet, _Creed thought smugly as Train's eyes fluttered closed, _you and I will be the greatest team the world has ever known…and we will be together forever._


	9. Paucis Verbis

Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat.

**Chapter Nine: Paucis Verbis **

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Train's first thought when he awoke the next morning was: _That had to be a dream._

He sat up, noting that he was still wearing a white bathrobe—Creed's, he supposed—and glanced briefly at the clock. It was only six in the morning. He was up early.

The sun was as bright as ever, and Train winced and turned away before sliding out of bed. He pulled on his clothes, lazily brushing the lint off his black jacket before attempting to get his hair looking a little more tidy. No such luck—it was still a spiky, unruly mess. With a yawn he shuffled downstairs to the kitchen, ready for breakfast.

Creed was waiting for him, sipping a glass of orange juice delicately. He had turned on the radio, light rock softly filling the room. Train couldn't help but notice that Creed's posture was very…_purposeful _for so early in the morning. One leg was propped up on the table, while the other dangled lazily. He was leaning back against his chair.

Train looked Creed over with half-asleep disdain. "You're not dressed."

Creed chuckled. "I'll get dressed if need be. What, you're not comfortable with my being shirtless?" He brushed his hands down his chest to his stomach, a devious look on his face. "You certainly had no problem with our bath last night. Or is the Black Cat still a little sluggish in the morning?"

Train suddenly wanted to go back to sleep. "So it really _did _happen…" he whispered, looking away.

Creed laughed outright and leapt easily off the chair, cupping Train's face in his hands. "Yes, Train, it did. And I liked it. Did you?" With a playful look he kissed Train quickly before turning toward the refrigerator.

"Now, what would you like to eat?"

Train glared at him. "I'm not hungry."

Creed glanced at him over his shoulder, a smug expression on his face. "Nothing at all?" he asked, one hand on his hip, his expression one of innocent surprise. "But you looked hungry when you came in!"

Train turned away. "Not anymore. I'll be fine."

Creed sighed. "All right, if that's what you want. By the way, Chronos hasn't given us a mission yet. We're free to do as we please until then."

Train nodded. "Fine. I'm going up on the roof."

Without waiting for a reply he left the kitchen, pointedly ignoring the soft rumblings of his stomach.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Try as he might, Train couldn't seem to keep the night's events out of his mind.

He could still feel Creed's hands on his skin; the kisses, the final result of his willingness to cooperate with Creed…it was as though the images and senses that Train had felt refused to be forgotten.

On the roof, Train grimaced at the thoughts and rolled onto his side, letting the sun warm him. To any other person, the thick scratchy tiles that made up the rooftop would be unbearable. Train wasn't any other person. The tiles were warm, and if he needed an itch to scratch all he had to do was move a little. Instant relief.

His stomach growled again, louder this time, and Train reluctantly sat up and moved toward the window behind him that bordered the porch roof he lay on. He was ready for lunch.

As soon as he entered and his feet touched the floor of his room, Train knew Creed was waiting for him, food in hand.

"I knew it." Creed chuckled and he handed Train a plate with chilled crabmeat and another with sliced cheese and apple. "Cats are always hungry first thing in the morning. You were just being stubborn." He handed him a polished silver fork. "Bon appetit."

Train let out an irritated sigh and sat on his bed, trying not to let his hunger show. As expected, the food was delicious—Creed was talented in many ways.

"Is it good?" Creed asked, leaning against the wall.

"Yeah." Train finished the meal, aware of Creed's eyes upon him and watching every movement he made. Finished, he headed downstairs to wash the plates, Creed behind him.

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Train was put off guard when he turned to see Creed carefully washing the dishes beside him, humming softly.

"What's that look for?" Creed said holding a stack of plates toward Train. "Pay attention! The plates are slipping!"

"Oh. Whoops." Train quickly caught the plates before they could fall and began to stack them in the dishwasher.

"Anything new from Chronos?" he asked as Creed handed him some silverware.

Creed shook his head. "Sepheria said she'd call later. I think we might have a Mission." He smiled at Train. "It could be our first big break."

Outside, a seagull cried loudly as it flew overhead.

Train turned to look at Creed, and what he saw looking back at him was the cold look of an assassin. He wondered if, when he had heard of their possible Mission, whether he too had had that same look in his own eyes. But he only answered flatly:

"Yeah. A big…break."

Creed laughed and picked up another set of plates. "Eloquent as always, Train." His eyes lit up.

Train felt his pulse slow.

The room was enveloped by a surprisingly comfortable silence then, save for the _clinks _and _clacks _of various kitchenware being put away, and the soft gurgling of running water.


	10. Pro Forma Part I

Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat, only the various partygoers.

**Chapter Ten: Pro Forma Part I**

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Five minutes after the dishes were stacked, the phone rang.

Creed got to it first, casually flipping the phone into the air and catching it before he answered mid-ring. Train leaned against the wall, yawning loudly.

"Hello, Diskenth residence…Ah, Sepheria, good to hear from you." Creed grinned in Train's direction. "Oh, Train and I are getting along fine. In fact, you could almost say…_swimmingly._"

He winked and Train felt his face turn red.

"Don't you _dare _tell her!" Train mouthed furiously.

"Oh, a new mission so soon? What's the rush?" Creed blinked. "It's a…very well then. How many this time? Ten? Very well. How long? A week? That's quite a celebration. Very well."

Creed tapped Kotetsu's sheath thoughtfully.

"We'll be ready tonight."

Quickly hanging up the phone, Creed turned to Train and smiled jovially. "Well, Train, it looks as though we're to attend a formal ball and celebration for the next week. I hope you know how to waltz or tango, or else I'll have to teach you myself."

Train gaped at him, feeling as though the world was caving in on him. "Y-You mean…we have to _dance?_"

Creed hand-waved the idea casually. "Oh, don't worry, Hades will be put to good use. In fact, we have ten rich crime lords to deal with during the festivities." Creed moved closer to him, still smiling. "We'll stay at the host's mansion—like the rest of the guests—and when the opportunities arise we will complete our mission. How does that sound?"

Before Train could respond, Creed's fingers were delicately tracing his jaw. Train sighed as Creed pulled him closer. He didn't fight when Creed's lips brushed against his, but he did pull away after a few seconds.

"Listen, Creed," Train said, hating how his words came out so breathlessly, "we can't let Sepheria and the other Chronos members see us like this. Here is fine, but…"

Creed nodded, looking slightly devious. "Of course, but…" He cocked his head to one side, looking the picture of an angel. "What exactly do you mean?"

Train glared at him. "You _know _what. You can't kiss me or do any of that stuff in public. Understand?"

"Of course," Creed repeated, still looking infuriatingly smug.

Train gave him a wry look. "I'm going to have to bribe you, aren't I?"

Creed's eyebrows raised. "Well, funny you should ask…" He grinned and began to unbutton Train's shirt. "A solid week of pretending to be 'just friends and partners' is going to be rather difficult after all this…"

Train smirked. "I think you can handle it. It doesn't seem like such a long time."

Creed snickered. "Oh, believe me, by the time this is over that week is going seem an eternity."

Train _had _planned on telling Creed to go only so far, but in the end he decided to watch Creed's eyes glow for a little while longer.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Train tugged at his uncomfortable tie that matched his eyes as he and Creed entered the mansion to the dull roar of polite celebration.

Through the gold-adorned door in front of them they could see that the ball was in full swing: beautiful young ladies in elaborate silk gowns swirled across the floor with black-suited men holding them close in a timeless waltz. To Train, it seemed as though the entire mansion glistened with a sort of spotless cleanliness he had never seen before—not even in Chronos. The white marble under his feet seemed recently polished, without a single mar on its surface.

"Ah, society," Creed said with a sigh, his expression dramatically saddened. "They know how to get over-the-top up here. Look at that _cake._" He gestured toward a creamy, twelve-layered monstrosity amidst several other sweet treats on a long white cloth-covered table. "It probably cost thousands."

"We're not here to gripe, Creed," Train growled, glancing around the spacious hall. "We're here to do our job."

Creed chuckled. "Obviously." Bowing deeply, he gestured toward the door. "After you, Mr. Heartnet."

Train rolled his eyes and ambled into the ballroom, Creed behind him.

He noticed that the room grew hushed as soon as they entered the room. He couldn't tell why—maybe it was because of Creed's white suit, which bluntly contrasted against the other black-suited men around them. Or maybe it was the aura Creed was giving off as he walked slightly ahead of Train, making the room fill with testosterone (and estrogen) simultaneously.

It suddenly occurred to Train that most of the room knew who Creed was—several people called out their hellos.

"Now then, Train," Creed whispered, his lips curled slightly, "I want you to stay close to me. I'm going to introduce you to a few people."

"Why?" Train asked, looking around him nervously. The people were staring and whispering excitedly.

"Because we're supposed to be members of society—of a 'minor' area of society, but we're of note anyway." Creed winked and patted him on the shoulder. "Relax. These people aren't the kind to attack you physically. It's more of the rumor mill sort."

Train didn't have time to argue before Creed led him toward a small cluster of people. He watched in surprise as Creed handed a blonde-haired girl his rose, even going so far as to kiss her blue-gloved hand.

"Vivian, a pleasure to see you again." Creed gestured toward Train. "Train Heartnet, Vivian Barnes. Her family owns a vineyard near here. They have the best wine in the country."

Vivian laughed, her brown eyes gleaming in the candlelight. "Oh, Mr. Diskenth, you're too kind, truly." She curtsied to Train. "Charmed, I'm sure."

Train shrugged. "I'm not really all that good at small talk," he admitted, giving her a short bow.

"So, Mr. Diskenth, who _is _this boy?" a man asked over his wine glass.

Creed smiled politely and placed his hand on Train's shoulder. "He's a friend. I met him a few months ago, and I've become quite attached to him."

"Such beautiful eyes," a petite brunette commented, moving closer. "Are you sure your 'friend' isn't something more?"

Creed winked. "Well, I've always had a thing for brunettes." He moved out of the way as the girl slapped his arm playfully. "You're always so feisty after a few glasses!"

"But what about me, Mr. Diskenth?" Vivian pouted, her sleeves sliding past her shoulders and revealing far more of her cleavage than Train wanted to see.

Creed grinned and patted her shoulder. "Vivian, you know it would never work out between us. You love wine and polite conversation, I love reciting sonnets while bedding a young beauty. In other words, we'd bore each other to tears."

Train snickered. "Thankfully I haven't seen that side of you yet."

Creed raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying you want to?" He smacked Train's arm. "Naughty boy, saying that in front of girls!"

The small group laughed as Train blushed and turned away.

"Oh, come now, Train," Creed said with a smile, touching Train's hand lightly for a moment. "I was just kidding. You don't have to be embarrassed."

"Such a becoming look," the man from before said after a pause. He then leaned forward and cupped Train's face in his hand, turning him this way and that. "He's got such fine skin, Mr. Diskenth. And his mouth is quite well-shaped…almost as nice as yours."

Train glowered at the man and gave Creed a look of _Get me the hell out of here._

Creed chuckled. "Ah, but sir, his bite is just as ferocious as mine."

Taking that as a go-ahead, Train pretended to snap at the man's fingers. The man pulled away, laughing shakily. Vivian and the others laughed and applauded.

Creed suddenly took the brunette's hand. "Why don't we enjoy ourselves, Train? The band sure is lively tonight."

"They're being paid handsomely, you can be sure," Vivian quipped before curtsying before Train. "Shall we dance?" she asked sweetly, her red lips parted slightly.

Train nodded and took her hand. "Sure."

Train led the way toward the dance floor, holding Vivian's hand gently as they waltzed beside the other dancers to the uplifting music that filled the room. Vivian's dress brushed softly against his legs, and Train felt his cheeks heating up at the close proximity of her chest. Vivian smiled serenely up at him, her skin soft and inviting in the chandelier light.

"You're a good dancer, Mr. Heartnet," she said softly as they revolved across the floor. "Did Mr. Diskenth teach you?"

Train nodded. "He's a good teacher."

Vivian laughed politely. "He's good at many things, Mr. Diskenth." She winked. "Not all of them appropriate for polite conversation."

Train let out a nervous chuckle and looked down at the floor. "I'm not surprised."

"He's a romantic, though. That's what draws people to him. And he's quite good looking. Did you know that the first time he came to one of my parties he was only fourteen? He charmed everyone in sight. In fact"—Vivian lowered her voice to a whisper—"rumor has it that one of the richest men in the city tried to bed him when he turned fifteen. He was never heard of again."

"I see." Train cleared his throat as Creed gestured for him to meet him. "I think Creed wants to see me."

Vivian nodded and pulled away. "Perhaps later…?" She left the sentence hanging.

Train shrugged. "Maybe."

With that he walked toward Creed, who was waiting impatiently.

"What took you?" he asked, arms folded across his chest.

"Sorry," Train whispered. "Vivian wanted to ask me something."

Creed grinned. "Ah. Well, if you want to 'socialize' with her I have no problem with it. It'll give us an even better cover."

"You're obviously very popular around here." Train said as he leaned against the wall. He was already growing tired of this scene. "Tell me, Creed, how many lovers have you _really_ had?"

"For what span of time?" Creed asked. "Since I turned fifteen?"

Train nodded.

"_Long_ relationships…two. I hope you'll be number three—and the last. The problem with having a partner as a lover, is this business we're in—they both died early. Not you, though. No, Train, you're different. _Better._"

"Gee, thanks," Train said sarcastically. "Now, how many _other_ lovers have you had?"

Creed shrugged. "Since I was fifteen…eleven, I think. Counting Vivian."

Train frowned. "What a partner you are…"

Creed laughed. "Trust me, Train, they weren't by choice. Anyway, it's my turn for questions. Remind me again: exactly how old are you?"

"Seventeen years, five months, three days, and..." He was staring dully out into the ballroom.

Creed made a small noise of approval. "It's remarkable that we're the same age. Very good—but you look younger than that."

"Don't remind me."

Creed suddenly pulled Train back out into the bright swirling colors of the ballroom. "You need a nice glass of champagne," he said smoothly, practically dragging him to the wine table.

"Creed, I don't do well with—" Train began, but a warning look from Creed shut him up. He resolved to have Creed pay for it later.

"Just relax, Train." Creed said with a sly wink as he poured Train a half-full glass of the sparkling golden champagne. "After all, this will be a week to remember." Pouring himself a glass as well, he raised it for a toast. "To us?"

Train glowered at him and raised his glass in return. "To us."

They sipped their glasses slowly, glancing around them. There was no sign of their targets as yet. Creed was swiftly pulled away by a cluster of girls, leaving Train alone. Train decided he would defy Creed—just a little.

"Here's to your thirteen lovers, you bastard," Train toasted Creed bitterly, and tipping his head back, felt the sweet alcohol pour down his throat.

Every

last

drop.


	11. Pro Forma Part II

Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat, only the partygoers.

**Chapter Eleven: Pro Forma Part II**

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It took Creed fifteen minutes—fifteen worthless, _time-wasting minutes_—to realize that Train wasn't where he had left him.

He felt like a frazzled parent. He had just turned his back for _fifteen minutes_, and his partner was gone. And in such a high-society place that was begging for trouble.

Politely excusing himself, Creed quickly hurried through the chattering hoi polloi, glancing this way and that in search of Train, his mind already mulling over the possibilities—particularly the worst-case scenarios. The bright lights and pretty dresses barely registered in his mind. The music became annoying notes, nothing more.

Creed could feel his heart beginning to pound in his chest. Where _was _he? Hopefully none of the silk-clad men or needy women had caught Train—he knew all too well what would happen once Train was in their clutches.

"_Such a pretty face…"_

Creed inwardly growled at the memory, trying to push it aside.

"_I can get you into the pinnacles of society, young man. You won't ever be hungry again…"_

Creed nearly tripped on a woman's dress and snapped harshly at her before turning away and heading down a hallway.

"_Just do as I say…" The man smiled and pulled his small body close, reeking of cigars and champagne. _

Creed stopped to catch his breath, listening intently. He could hear someone talking in the distance, someone with a hint of roughness, with a drunken drawl. There were two other voices, soft and beguiling.

Quietly he snuck toward the source of the noise—a closed oak door. Pressing his ear to it, he listened to the conversation within and with growing conviction that his worst fears were confirmed.

"N-no…'m not s'pposed to be doin' this…could getcha in trouble…" Train slurred as Creed heard the rustling of silk.

"Oh, don't worry, Train, _we'll _never tell!" A girl laughed and the click of high heels against wood was heard.

Creed ground his teeth at the barely-audible sound of lips against skin, and heard Train growl and someone stumble—a girl, by the muffled cry she made.

Without thinking twice Creed forced the door open, and saw Train leaning against a wall, his clothes in slight disarray. The two girls were staring fearfully at Creed. Their fancy gowns were torn, leaving them half naked save for their petticoats. Pink and violet silks sprawled around them. They looked like half-melted cakes. The girl who sat on the floor looked to be in shock, her red hair tumbling past her shoulders. Her willowy black-haired companion stood over her worriedly.

"Are you all right, Train?" Creed asked, hurrying toward his partner.

"Creed? 'Sat you?" Train stumbled to meet him, all but collapsing into his arms. His eyes were hazy and unfocused. "I dunno what's goin' on. I drank the stuff y' gave me, all o' it…"

Creed frowned. "Train, I told you not to drink the whole glass. What were you _thinking?_"

Train's eyes slid out of focus. "Look, I—I can't really consterdate. Seein' weird crap n' all…"

Creed sighed. "And then what happened, Train?"

Train shakily pointed a finger at the girls and began to babble.

"Sssh, Train, sssh," Creed soothed him, running his hands gently over Train's shoulder. "It's all right now, I've got you. Remember, I know how these things work. In this area, I'm your superior." He chuckled bitterly. "Just be thankful it wasn't a diverse group who tried to seduce you. You would have actually had to fight."

Train nodded in an exaggerated way, burying his fingers into Creed's hair. "Gotcha."

Creed frowned. "I'm going to have a talk with you tomorrow about this. You've made a very, very big mistake tonight."

Train nodded again, closing his eyes. "Ohhhhh-kaaaaay."

Creed smiled. "Good boy. Now then, you'd better get some sleep. Let's get you to our room. We have a big day tomorrow. I'll ask one of the butlers to bring you up. I'll join you later."

Creed somewhat reluctantly released Train and followed him to the nearest servant, who led Train back to their room. Sighing as he watched him go, Creed turned and headed down the hall to the room where they had left the girls. He slunk into the shadows and watched as they frantically planned their departure from the party.

The girl who had been pushed away by Train, Creed noted, had lovely pale skin and very shapely legs. Her pink dress covered what needed to be covered of her lower half, but otherwise she was quite exposed. And such flame-red hair…she seemed like a creature from a trashy romance novel.

Her black-haired companion's clothing hadn't fared any better. She was pretty like her friend, but softer and weak looking. She was less comely than her companion to Creed's eyes. But her violet dress was more demure than her friend's—in her own way she was also striking.

And they had tried to seduce _Creed's partner._

Creed closed the door with a _snap_. The girls whirled around in shock to find Creed standing against the wall, casually pulling on a pair of white silk gloves. The only light in the room was a small bulb that was beginning to flicker.

"Hello girls," Creed purred, moving closer and resting his hands on their shoulders. "You know, all things considered I really think Train prefers platinum blondes. As for me…"

He smiled.

"Well, I prefer brunettes…and redheads."


	12. Pro Forma Part III

Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat.

**Chapter Twelve: Pro Forma Part III**

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Train awoke the next day to a pounding headache.

He toppled out of the large, elegant four-poster bed and groaned pitifully when he hit the floor. Thankfully, it was a grey cloudy morning, without sunlight to blind him. He lurched onto his feet, stared blearily around him, and went to grab some clothes out of the briefcase he had packed.

Naturally Creed had packed clothes for every formal occasion. Train sleepily grabbed a white dress shirt, a blue waistcoat and a pair of black tapered pants and put them on, trying not to think. It hurt too much.

There was a soft rattling sound coming from the window. It had started raining.

Train rubbed his temples and slouched toward the bathroom, hoping to wash the headache away. He had no idea whether a few handfuls of water would do anything, but it was worth the try.

_Maybe I should have listened to Creed… _he thought, a brief memory of being held protectively crossing his mind. _Speaking of Creed, I wonder where he is?_

Train noted a brown-stained towel and a pair of drying white gloves by the sink. _On second thought, I think I know. _

After washing his face and hair—the cold water jolted him completely awake—Train decided to look for Creed. He stepped out of the bathroom and glanced around for his shoes. After searching around the room for a few moments, he found the shoes and sat down and began to fumble blearily with the laces.

He heard the groan of a door being opened, then shut.

"You're awake, Train." Creed's voice wasn't as smooth and happy as it usually was. On the contrary, he sounded grim.

"I took care of one of our targets last night. He was easy…for me. But then…" Train heard Creed sigh irritably. "How are you feeling, my young Bacchus?"

"Well, I've got a headache—" Train began, but found himself staring into the darkened eyes of Creed. He was looking at him with disappointment, and his hands were clenched into fists.

"Train, how could you do such a thing?" Creed asked, his voice solemn. "I _told _you not to drink so much, and yet you did. Why?"

Train stared at the floor, feeling uncomfortable. For some reason, Creed's tone hurt him. "I wanted to prove that I didn't have to listen to everything you said. I'm a Chronos Number after all."

"Train, just because _you_ have a title instead of _me_ means _nothing _when it comes to knowledge. Think about what happened last night. What would the Elders think?" Creed sighed and smoothed his white shirt with a pale delicate hand, looking irritated. "You've truly saddened me, Train."

Train felt his heart grow unexplainably heavy at the look in Creed's eyes. This person, who—like his mentor Zaguine—had invested so much in him in such a short time, was disappointed. Terribly disappointed.

"Listen, Creed, I'm sorry…" Train gazed up at him, trying not to sound pleading. He felt like a scolded child. It was as if he had been reduced to being five years old again, and had broken another flowerpot in a stupid tantrum.

Creed sighed, his eyes downcast. "Train, 'sorry' isn't good enough this time. In order to work properly together…there are repercussions for foolish actions. Be thankful that what you did last night is small compared to things others have done, and nothing major was ruined."

"What do you plan to do with me?" Train asked, obviously concerned.

Creed sat in silence for a while, his eyes never leaving Train, a methodical look in his eyes. Train felt a cold feeling trickle down his spine.

Creed began to pace, his hands in his pockets. Train could feel that he was being studied, analyzed.

In Train's mind, this made the waiting _worse. _

He hadn't felt so helpless in a long, long time, and it—dare he think it—scared him.

He watched Creed's feet as Creed steadily moved closer, closing the gap between them.

Their roles in their partnership had never been so defined until then. Creed truly _was _the brains: he was the one who thought things through, the one who had warned him and instructed him so patiently before the fiasco of the night before.

Train hadn't listened as he should have. He had been stupid, a stupid gawky teenager. Not an assassin, not Black Cat, but a _kid. _

Creed could have left him. Could have let him fall into the hands of the hungry aristocrats who seemed to find him so attractive. He could have let him be eaten alive.

But he didn't. Creed actually searched for him and saved him from what would have been a huge mistake. He had even taken care of one of the targets himself, just to make sure the evening wasn't a total loss.

Creed had done all that for him, and Train had paid him back by making a fool of himself.

Creed stopped pacing and crouched down beside him. He lifted Train's chin up to meet his gaze with a firm hand.

Train looked away, feeling inexplicably small.

"Look at me, Train." Creed's expression was like twisting a knife in Train's gut.

It _hurt._

Train met Creed's stare and suddenly felt himself surrounded by a lukewarm body, a pair of lightly-muscled arms wrapped around him and rocking him back and forth. The scent of roses and blood weakened him further.

"It's all right, Train, it's all right…" Creed said soothingly, massaging his shoulders in a familiarly comforting way. "I've got you, don't be afraid…"

"But…" Train whispered, beginning to piece his mind back together. "Weren't you going to—"

"Sssh," Creed put his finger to Train's lips and smiled. "You've apologized. Just promise me that it won't happen again. On Hades."

Train nodded and pulled out Hades from its holster, placing his hand on the XIII engraving. "I promise."

Creed smiled. "Thank you, Train." He brushed his lips across Train's cheek.

"Where's breakfast?" Train asked, suddenly feeling more like his old self.

Creed laughed and stood up. "A one-track mind as always, Train. I'll send the breakfast up. By the way, due to the rain, no one's planning on getting out of bed." He grinned mischievously. "Either we can simply stay in here and have a little fun, or we can take care of a few of our targets—but _quietly_."

Train blinked and got to his feet, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Targets it is."


	13. Pro Forma Part VI

Ironic, isn't it? This chapter was finished and uploaded on Friday the 13th. Train is Number XIII. And to cap it all off, this is chapter 13! Let the laugh track commence.

Oh, and incidentally, if you want to know what the actually tune of the waltz in this chapter is, go to and look up "Toymaker's Dream". It's a haunting, creepy tune.

Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat, only the song titles that Creed conjures up.

**Chapter 13: Pro Forma Part VI**

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Creed smiled down at the lifeless bodies of two more tycoons while Train loaded one of his "Rose Bullets" as he called them, into Hades.

"Interesting, Train," Creed said smoothly as the rain continued to fall outside. "You didn't aim to kill at first. Why was that?"

"Look at the wrinkled man's coat pocket." Train turned away, packing Hades securely into his holster.

Creed did as requested, noticing what looked like a slip of paper inside the man's pocket. He pulled it out and realized that it was in fact a photo—a glossy photo of a pretty woman and an equally pretty young girl in their summer best amongst a field of sunflowers. He flipped the photo over and read the handwritten date on the back. It had been taken only a month ago.

Creed dropped the photo and turned to Train. "So?"

"_So _he had family," Train growled, whipping around and looking positively incensed. "A _wife and little girl are waiting for him_, Creed! And now they'll never see him again!"

Creed shrugged and gave Train a patronizing smile. "Then if it makes you feel better, Train, we'll send them a bouquet of black roses. We can pick them together."

Train shook his head. "A few measly flowers aren't enough for a man's _life_, and you know it!"

Creed was surprised. He had never thought Train would become so enraged over their work. Train's gold eyes were bright and his jaw was clenched tightly, drawn back into a snarl. The fine clothes he wore that Creed had specifically bought for their Mission were covered in sweat and someone else's blood.

He looked even more beautiful than before, if that were possible.

The only problem with the scene was the fact that Train was mad at _him. _

It was time to cool him down before he burned a hole through the wall with his glare alone.

"Train, Train, Train…what _am _I going to do with you?" Creed sighed and walked over to Train, who moved to push him away.

"Hmm, well, I dunno, Creed. Listen to me?" Train replied sarcastically, clenching his fists.

Creed frowned. "What happened to that insecure boy of a few hours ago? Understand, I'm glad he's gone for now, but I liked the way he followed the rules _much _better."

"You can't threaten me."

Creed snickered. "Oh, honestly, Train, what makes you think I need to threaten you?"

Train raised his fists, cocking one arm back, prepared to throw a punch.

Creed let Train hit him with all his might.

Just as he had expected, Train was a strong youth in more than just gunmanship. A little more to the right and he would have broken his jaw. Creed was pleased to note that the physical evaluation of Train that Chronos had provided him with had been 100% accurate after all.

Creed gingerly touched the welt and grinned at Train. "You see? It felt good, didn't it, letting out those ugly feelings?"

Train stared at his hands as though unable to comprehend what had happened.

"If you want to be a _true _Eraser, Train, you need to understand that these people we hunt down are not people like you and me. They are _targets._" Creed touched Train's cheek softly, and Train's eyes flicked up to meet his. "Targets are meant to be eliminated, simple as that. We find them, we kill them and leave no witnesses. Women and children have no part in your mind when it comes to Missions."

"But what happens to them afterward?" Train asked, his eyes growing steely again.

Creed smiled. "They get on with their lives."

"But how can they?" Train's brow furrowed, and Creed was astounded at how young he looked. He could have been a boy of twelve instead of seventeen…

Creed's smile grew wider. "Train, you have to understand that not all humans think like you do. They don't value family or companionship, only power or wealth."

"And do their families realize this?"

Creed shrugged. "Sometimes yes, sometimes no. There are some people who simply live with the monsters." He turned toward the door. "Come on, let's put these lumps where people won't find them, shall we? I'll tell you more later."

Creed watched Train pick up one of the corpses, his expression thoughtful. Creed picked up the other, nearly staggering under the weight of the lifeless body. But one of the good things about training with a sword as long and heavy as Kotetsu was that eventually weight didn't matter.

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They dumped the bodies into the furnace.

Creed would have preferred to have buried the bodies in the garden with the other unlucky tycoon, but due to the possibility that someone might see them Train decided (with a pained look) that the furnace was the best way to go.

Creed wasn't happy either—the only thing the corpses contributed in _that _sort of burial was to provide heat for the other snobs. It wasn't artistic.

Train automatically turned away as they shoved the corpses into the furnace, stepping away from the sudden heat and the sparks.

"There. Done." Creed stuffed his hands into his pockets and left the room, Train beside him. "Feel better?" he asked with a smile.

"I suppose." Train sighed and gazed out the windows they passed as they headed toward their quarters.

"Good." Creed had a new bounce in his step. "Now, then—who do you want to be introduced to tonight? Or do you just want to dance?" He suddenly took Train by the arm and began to waltz slowly to imagined music. "Either way, it'll be interesting. Wouldn't you say?"

Train blinked, and Creed couldn't help but smile at the confused look in his eyes. "Why are we dancing?"

"Because I feel like it." Creed laughed as Train rolled his eyes. "Oh, come now, Train, don't tell me you don't _like _dancing. One, two, three, one, two, three…"

They glided across the floor, the rain creating a rhythm for them as they moved. One, two, three, one, two, three…

Creed unexpectedly lowered Train into a quick dip, chuckling softly at the way his skin paled at the action and a vibrant blush followed. Then Creed hauled him upright and continued their dance, watching Train's expression shift from moody and thoughtful to pleased.

The stairs were navigated normally, though Creed still hummed their rhythm as they went. One, two, three one, two, three…

As soon as they reached their quarters, however, the dance began again. By that point Train had caught on to the rhythm and had abruptly become the leader of their little waltz.

Train placed his hands on Creed's shoulders and guided him along the wood floor—a floor made soft by many generations of feet walking across it.

_I really ought to compose this, _Creed thought with a smile as Train glanced out the window briefly, watching the rain. _"The Murderous Waltz in A Major", perhaps…or "Number 13" in C Minor…_

"Ouch," Train grunted suddenly.

Creed stopped. "What is it, Train?"

Train gave him a look of mock-indignation. "You said you never stepped on anyone's feet!"

Creed grinned sheepishly. "Sorry about that, Train. You're just…_captivating._" Creed cocked his head to one side. "Do you feel better?"

Train raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "Sure, sure."

The rain continued to fall.


	14. Pro Forma Part V

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone! Here's a chapter to celebrate!

Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat, only the partygoers.

**Chapter Fourteen: Pro Forma Part V**

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"Mr. Heartnet…"

Train barely even heard the voice as his mind replayed the early evening's events:

_Train relaxed into Creed's arms as his shirt was discarded without a second thought. The rain continued its relentless patter against the window as they settled themselves comfortably onto the bed, their shoes having long ago been kicked aside after their waltz—_

"Mr. Heartnet!"

Train jumped abruptly, and the richly dressed girl giggled, her blonde hair falling out of its bun. The music curled around them like a large, soft cat, purring violin notes charmingly in his ears.

"Sorry about that. What is it?" he asked, idly adjusting his tie. The ballroom felt stuffy already.

"I was wondering if you wanted something to eat." The girl tugged at her gloves, looking a little uncomfortable as well. "It's getting crowded."

"Not your usual scene, then?" Train asked with a small grin as they headed toward the buffet table.

"No." The girl giggled again, though there was an icy undertone to it. "Aunt wants to marry me off as soon as possible, you see. She doesn't care about anything other than her bank account."

"I see…" Train nodded, remembering Creed's words:

"_There are those who want money, power and fame, and they will do anything to get it." Creed's lips trailed his jaw and down his neck, and Train's body curved toward his. "They are killers—whether literally or metaphorically. They break hearts and bodies, and never think twice about it." _

"_Why?" Train asked as Creed lifted his head to gaze unblinkingly at him, his blue eyes shining in the dark._

"_Because they want something. Anything." Creed's teeth flashed white in the darkness, as the dim light from outside illuminated them. "A little like me, actually."_

"What would you like?" The girl's smile grew more welcoming as they neared the buffet. "Fruit? Desert?"

"Anything sounds fine," Train said as his stomach growled audibly, making him sigh.

The girl laughed. "I think your stomach agrees, Mr. Heartnet."

After they filled their plates with grapes and slices of rich chocolate cake, they sat down at a nearby table and began to eat. Train listened politely to the girl for a few minutes, somewhat interested in her opinion of high society. Apparently she saw nothing wrong with them—they were a little snobbish sometimes, yes, but otherwise they were a good-natured sort.

Train felt his concentration slipping as the girl began to talk of the scandalous affairs of the past…

"_Of course, those society fools have no problems with causing mild chaos now and then," Creed said smugly as Train sighed and felt his pants being relinquished. "They enjoy the attention, I think. Perhaps they're a type of high-class voyeur."_

"_I think everyone's a bit full of themselves in some ways," Train added. "And if you think about it, those society guys are human like the rest of us."_

_Creed's face was suddenly only a few inches away from his own, his eyes hooded and thoughtful. "What makes you say that, Train?" he asked slowly, as he gently yet insistently continued his seduction._

"_Well, they have flaws, don't they?" Train felt his voice grow high and childish as a strangely pleasurable feeling tingled up his spine. "Wait, Creed, what're you—"_

_Creed gave him a reassuring smile. "I'm just preparing you, that's all. Tell me"_—

The sound of someone clearing their throat brought Train abruptly out of his reverie.

"Tell me, Mr. Heartnet, what do _you _think of it all?"

Train blinked at the girl, who was now looking slightly irritated. "Think of what?"

"Of the _rumors._" The girl lifted a grape to her small, full lips, her green eyes darkening with annoyance. "Don't tell me they don't interest you."

Train took a bite of his cake, trying to look indifferent. "I'm not sure. I guess I sort of expect something like that to happen in a place like this."

The girl nodded, looking reassured. "That's true. Mr. Collins seems like such a nice soul, but you never can tell with people these days." She sighed gloomily. "The person you trust most could be a monster, and you would never know it."

Train nodded in agreement, the cake suddenly feeling stale and dry in his mouth. "Yeah. The vilest men are the ones with the nicest smile."

"Too true, Train. You're learning quickly."

Train whipped around to see Creed smiling angelically down at him, a glass of pinot noir wine in his hand. A delicate brunette with pale skin had latched herself to his arm and was gazing adoringly up at him, her blue eyes misty. Creed's dark blue dinner jacket was clearly a large part of the attraction—Train had a strong suspicion Creed had had the thing tailored to fit him snugly. The black slacks were probably also of designer quality—they looked far more comfortable than what the other men were sporting.

"Hello, Creed." Train leaned his elbow on the table and gazed up at him calmly. "Enjoying the party?"

Creed chuckled. "Immensely. And you?"

"Yeah. This girl is keeping me company." Train inclined his head toward the girl, who was staring at Creed in fascination.

Creed's smile grew as he politely detached himself from his wide-eyed arm-candy and kissed the girl Train was sitting beside gallantly on the hand. "Thank you for keeping my friend Train company, Miss…?"

"Sophie."

Train couldn't help but smirk at the way her eyes sparkled as Creed looked at her.

"…Miss Sophie. Are you…_new_ to this social scene?" Creed asked, taking a seat beside Sophie with a charming grin. "I'm sure I would have recognized someone as pretty as you."

Sophie's giggle was beginning to get on Train's nerves. "My Aunt wanted me to see what life was like outside the garden. Personally I don't see what all the excitement is about. It's just noise, noise, noise…"

Train frowned and watched as Creed's eyes took on a dull, transparent look, a look so different from that evening—

_Creed's smile grew as their bodies entwined. "Train, don't you see? Who else would feel like this? You know those greedy nobodies don't understand what partnership really is." His hands ran down Train's chest, eerily delicate and smooth. _

"_But they can _feel_—" Train began, but a rush a horrible, wonderful pleasure cut him off. _

"_No, Train. No, no, no." Creed's words became clipped as the bed began to creak softly. "Not. Like. We. Can." _

_His eyes…God, they were so bright, so intense…_

"_How—" Train inhaled and started over. "How can the same race not feel the same things at least once?"_

"_Because they're _monsters, _Train. Evil, vile, sick little monsters that frighten little children." Creed's voice was sickly sweet in his ears, and Train gasped at the sparks of pleasure that accompanied the words. "And we can't have that, can we?"—_

Train stood up when he heard Creed clear his throat, amused.

"Train, would you like to come walk in the garden with me?" Creed held out his hand, his gaze warm and inviting.

"Sure." Train stuffed his hands in his pockets and inclined his head to Sophie and the other girl. "Enjoy the party."

When the girls were out of earshot, Train whispered "How many more targets are there?"

"Six." Creed smirked and inclined his head toward a small group of laughing tycoons. "Do you want to take them along with us?"

Train nodded. "Only three of them. That way we can deal with this place in peace. Has anyone else noticed those guys' absence?"

Creed chuckled. "Just like I told you Train, they can't see past their wallets. None of them truly care about each other." He sipped his wine. "Does that help you understand my lesson?"

Train rolled his eyes. "You know full and well I can't forget it."

Creed raised an eyebrow, his expression one of innocent surprise. "Really?" He grinned wolfishly. "Well, then, I want a full demonstration of what you learned this evening. No mercy, no mess, no remorse. Understood?"

"And if I do a good job?" Train cocked his head to one side, casual as any normal teenager would be.

Creed chuckled again and whispered in Train's ear "I will let you take the credit for our first difficult Mission. And you'll get to pick the way we celebrate."

Train nodded and stalked toward the group of tycoons. "Deal."


	15. Facta non Verba

Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat, or any of the classical songs mentioned herein.

**Chapter Fifteen: Facta non Verba**

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"Train Heartnet and Creed Diskenth, congratulations. Your Mission was a success."

Creed smiled softly and gazed unblinkingly at Sepheria. "Thank you, Number I. It was a pleasure to serve you." _Sort of. _

"I trust there were no witnesses?"

Creed nodded, his smile broadening into a grin. "Train took care of them himself."

Sepheria's eyes took on a pleased glow. "Good. I'm proud, Heartnet."

Train was silent, his hands stuffed into his pockets and his eyes hooded. Creed could tell Train was glad to be back in his old black coat again—he had looked rather uncomfortable after awhile in those fancy clothes.

Sepheria sighed. "You two are dismissed until further notice." Sepheria inclined her head, clearly signaling for them to leave.

Creed gave a courtly bow. "As you wish."

Train still said nothing, instead turning on his heel and practically stalking out of the huge, imposing doors. Creed quickly followed after him, feeling a tingle of unease.

"Train?"

There was no reply, only the soft _tap, tap, tap _of Train's boots as he walked across the marble floor.

"Train?" Creed asked louder, feeling slightly irritated. "Remember our deal? What do you want to do?" He didn't care that all of Chronos might be listening. This was much more important.

Train didn't answer as he shoved the doors open, letting in the cool night air. Creed clenched his fists in impatience. This wasn't like Train at all. At the very least he would acknowledge his presence.

_What that stupid cow said couldn't have affected him _that _much, _Creed thought with a wry grin. _They care nothing for each other…_

Creed looked up at the starlit sky, barely visible through the glare of the streetlights. The stars would look better from their house. Perhaps Train would like to see them too…

"_Train!_"

By that point they had reached an alley, and Train had finally stopped. Creed leapt atop a trashcan and perched there silently like a handsomely dressed bird of prey. Train leaned against a large green garbage bin, looking like a homeless bum in his tattered clothes.

That wasn't how Train was meant to look _at all. _

"Train, what's gotten into you? Is something bothering you?" Creed couldn't fight the impatience and confusion in his voice.

Train sighed, his morose state clear as day. His shoes became covered in garbage when he half-heartedly kicked at a nearby plastic bag full of the stuff.

"Creed…look, for a little while I just need my space." The words were slow and full of weary conviction. "Everyone needs their space once in a while, you know? All I want is a few days to myself. You can call me on my cell if a Mission comes up, but…"

"But _why, _Train?" Creed asked, feeling lost for the first time in a long time.

Train looked at him finally, and Creed instinctively tensed at the look in his eyes. Train's beautiful gold eyes that usually looked so determined were instead holding a haunted look.

"Creed, what was it like the first time you killed someone?"

Creed blinked, then smiled. "Liberating. I was free…for the first time in my entire life."

Train sighed again and tugged self-consciously at his jacket sleeves. "What do you feel when you kill women?"

Creed shrugged. "Nothing."

"Nothing at all?"

'Women have no importance to me. Men are of little consequence. The only truly important person in my life is my partner…_you._" Creed smiled. "Is that enough?"

"No." Train rubbed his arms, as though suddenly cold. "Creed, why did that man scream so loud when I shot him?" he asked, his voice suddenly childlike. "It was in the heart…he shouldn't have been able to…it was supposed to be a silent kill…"

"I'm not sure, Train. Sometimes they're—"

"And that woman—why did she try to protect him? He was already dead—there was no need—"

"Train—"

But Train was talking too fast. His eyes were wide and pained. "When everyone started screaming and shouting like that I didn't know what to do—you told me to shoot—"

"Yes, Train, and they all deserved it. They were going to hurt us, all of us, every Chronos Number."

Train closed his eyes. "I have to sort this out. That's why I need time alone."

Creed raised an eyebrow. "All right Train, if you wish. Will you come home?"

Train smiled shakily. "Thanks, Creed, but I think I'll just rent an apartment or something for now. I'll pay the rent."

Creed nodded. "All right, then. I'll keep the door unlocked." He jumped off the trashcan and headed down the alleyway.

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Creed stared in awe at the huge array of music boxes that stood in front of him.

He had known the jewelry store near his house had recently acquired some new stock, but not of such _craftsmanship. _Every box had been handcrafted, diligently painted by hand, and (as far as Creed was concerned) given the purest sounds imaginable. From Classical to the obscure, each tinkling note held the charm and grace of children at play.

_Now, then…which one would suit Train the best? _Creed began to sort through the boxes, winding them up and listening to their various tunes. "_9__th__ Symphony"? "Canon in D Minor"? "All I Ask Of You"? _

"Try that one, Mr." Creed felt something tug at his sleeve.

Creed glanced down at a girl of about thirteen. Her brown hair was of medium length and tied back in a ponytail. Her green eyes were striking. She was wearing a white yukata with pink flowers carefully stitched on it. Most interestingly of all in Creed's opinion was the gun holster she held at her side.

_Interesting… _Creed thought with a smile, bending down slightly to her height. "Which one?"

The girl smiled in return and picked up a music box shaped in the form of two cats—a white cat and a black cat—playing the piano. "Listen—I'm not sure what it's called, but I think anyone would like it!"

As soon as the first few notes came softly out of the music box Creed knew the tune. "It's Heydn's _Serenade._" He chuckled at the girl's awestruck expression. "I learned it a long time ago."

The girl giggled. "You must be the sort of 'lonely rich kid' girls want to fall in love with."

Creed laughed outright at that. "Oh, you have no idea, little girl."

The girl pouted. "And I'm not little! My name's Saya!"

"Saya, hmm?" Creed grinned. "That's a nice name. I'm Creed Diskenth."

Saya smiled. "Nice to meet you, Mr…hmm." She frowned. "You're name's a little long, so I'll just call you Mr. D!"

Creed raised an eyebrow. "Mr. D…? Oh, well, whatever works." He took the music box from her and walked toward the cash register, Saya humming quietly beside him.

After he had paid for the music box and had it wrapped, he noted that Saya was following him out the door. Creed decided to let her follow him for a while, just to see what would happen.

He abruptly found out.

"Catch me if you can!" Saya trilled as she abruptly raced ahead of him, laughing gleefully.

Creed stood there blankly, nearly dropping his bag. _What the—_

"Come _on, _Mr. D!" Saya called, stamping her foot twice. "Slow poke! Turtle! I'll bet a snail would beat you at a hundred-yard dash!"

Suddenly, Creed decided that a little race would do him some good.

"Is that a challenge, Miss Saya?" Creed called out as he charged after her.

The crowd walking along the street was roughly parted by the light-footed duo (Saya at least tried to be gentle when she avoided the pedestrians) as they raced past the brightly lit stores. Saya attempted a zigzag maneuver on the next block—but that was one of Train's favorite moves, and Creed knew how to get around _that. _A minute later Creed was right on her heels.

But soon Saya was lost in the crowd, and Creed was left standing alone holding the bag with the music box she had chosen for him.


	16. Pares cvm paribvs

Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat, only Creed's poem.

**Chapter Sixteen: ****Pares cvm paribvs**

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The Floral Boutique was as calming and inviting as ever, and Creed couldn't help but relax as soon as he picked up the newest batch of seeds.

Pulling on the green work apron Creed carried the seeds to the greenhouse area, where he was greeted by hundreds of flowers blooming in brilliant silky explosions everywhere he looked. Aside from seeing blood on Kotetsu or Train in the heat of battle, it was his favorite sight in the world.

"_As brilliant fireworks alight in the sky, the angels smile and weep on high…_" Creed recited with a spring in his step as he grabbed an empty flowerpot and filled it with soil. "_They, and they alone, know the grandest bloom, that is the rose._"

He had to admit that if he wasn't so fond of being an Eraser (or of The Arts), being a flower shop owner or caretaker would be the ideal job. The business was slow and steady like a brook, and his boss was considerably nicer than Sepheria and the Chronos Elders. Not only that, but he received free roses for his trouble.

Creed hummed to himself as he began to carefully place the peony seeds in a flowerpot, checking the packet to make sure he had the right color.

"Let's see…what beauty are you going to add to this little Eden, hmm?" he asked the seeds, flipping the packet over and examining the pictures.

_Pink. They have to go in between the red and purple flowers… _He placed the pot—now full of carefully placed seeds—in it's rightful place. _What else can I do here…?_

He picked up more seeds and began to place them in flowerpots, wondering what Train was up to. He probably had an apartment by now and was chugging milk up on the rooftop.

Creed grinned at the thought. He could picture Train surrounded by cats and possibly even talking to them about his problems. Train seemed the type to do that.

"Train lives up to his code name in more ways than he thinks," Creed said to a _camellia_ as he watered it. "I remember watching him sit and chat with a tabby for an entire hour. He seemed to think it was the most engrossing conversation in the world!"

The _camellia_, though pretty, said nothing.

"The odd thing is that none of the other Numbers follow their traits too well." Creed chuckled as he added a new vibrant marigold to the growing cluster. "For example—Jenos isn't all that lucky for being number VII. Isn't seven supposed to be the luckiest number?" Creed shrugged. "I'm not too sure."

Creed made a face as he rearranged the soothing purple irises. "Sepheria seems to have no fun at all. If I was a leader of 1/3 of the world's economy, I would at least throw a few galas now and then. If all you do is work, work, work, then you'll get tired and _really _need to…well, let off some steam."

Creed waved at his boss—a cheerful young lady—as she passed by, completely unfazed by his habits. Thankfully she seemed to think he was talking nonsense to pass the time (which was partially true). In all honesty, Creed didn't really care if Chronos was discovered. It seemed that most of the world knew who they were and how they operated.

But Train…well, Train was a different matter altogether.

"Train, meanwhile…well, I have no idea who taught him the Chronos Law, but he seems to enjoy following it to a certain point. There are some things he won't do. Such as kill children." Creed shrugged. "I suppose that's all well and good, but what if they know how to use weapons? He would have to fight them sooner or later."

Creed laughed and shook his head at the violets. "Really, I have my work cut out for me. Train needs to be…house-Trained, no pun intended."

_Then again, I talk to flowers. I suppose birds of a feather…_

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Creed was quite pleased with the paycheck he received in the mail. He would be able to buy some of the best food he could find for when Train returned.

He had to admit that it was rather…_quiet _in the house. There was no meowing from outside (he had left a dish on the roof just in case), no snoring, no grumbling, and no partner. No _Train._

Creed sighed and collapsed onto his bed, staring up at the blank white ceiling. He had to admit that he was being _slightly _ridiculous. Yes, Train was gone, but only for a fixed amount of time. He had not raced off into the sunset, a milk bottle in one hand and Hades in the other. No, he was simply…_thinking. _There was no need to panic.

On a whim, Creed slid off the bed and pulled on his white coat. It was growing dark.

_Perhaps…_

He headed out into the city, watching the cars rush by him in sudden gusts. It was a busy night, just like it always was. Young couples were heading to nightclubs, ready to dance the night away both on and off the dance floor. Beggars begged, children cried, and the world suffered.

_Someday, Train and I will fix that. _

Creed continued down a few blocks, just another teenager amongst a group of nobodies. He checked out a few music stores, bought yet another Classical CD (the finest of Mozart) and browsed a bookstore. He listened to the gossip going around the city and walked among the heartbreakers and starry-eyed youths.

For a little while, Creed felt normal.

He wasn't incredibly fond of it.

Finally Creed stopped in front of a small café near the jewelry store and waited patiently, watching the crowds meander by on their business. He checked his watch—9:20 PM.

Suddenly he heard a familiar voice singing behind him:

_Sing a song onto the world_

_Rising high the clouds unfurl_

Creed turned around and followed the singer down the nearby alley, breaking into a brisk jog.

_Fan the flames into the past_

_Here now our lives will last_

Creed jumped gracefully onto a rooftop where Saya was standing, singing serenely to the moon:

_We'll never know the times of pain_

_Fall down fall down falls the rain_

_My life won't be plain_

"That's a beautiful song, Miss Saya." Creed chuckled at Saya's shocked expression. "What, you thought no one could hear you?"

"I—that's—it's very rude to scare a girl while she's singing! Or anyone for that matter!" Saya glowered at him as she crossed her arms huffily over her chest. "You should know that, Mr. D!"

"I suppose so. Please forgive my rudeness." He bowed regally, his lips curled slightly despite his serious demeanor.

Saya smiled and pretended to curtsy. "Apology accepted. Now, then"—she leaned closer, grinning mischievously—"did your friend like the music box?"

Creed shrugged. "He hasn't seen it yet, but I think he'll enjoy it when he comes home."

Saya frowned. "Did you…get in a fight?"

"Well, no, not exactly. He just…needed some time alone."

"I see." Saya nodded and sat down, motioning for Creed to join her. "I have an idea for when your friend comes back."

Creed raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? Interesting." He sat beside her, gazing up at the moon. "What might it be, then?"

"Well…what are his favorite things?"

"Milk, cats…hmm." Creed suddenly came up with nothing. "I'm not sure."

"Well, milk is easy to come by, so that isn't a problem." Saya snapped her fingers, looking pleased. "Oh! How about a cat!"

"You mean take in a stray?"

"Of course!" Saya's cheerful laugh made Creed smile involuntarily. "Everyone needs a home, right? Why not bring a kitty in for you and your friend to take care of?"

Creed chuckled. "I suppose you're right." He continued staring up at the moon. "Speaking of homes, where do you live?"

"Here and there," Saya replied vaguely. "I'm a Sweeper-in-training, so I just go where I want to." She laughed loudly. "No rules for me! Just friends and fun!"

Creed was surprised to find that Saya was preparing to leave.

"Where are you going?"

Saya shrugged. "There doesn't seem to be much going on around here, so I figure I'll just head out." She smiled. "Don't forget about the cat!"

With a cheerful whoop and a jump Saya disappeared from view, and Creed began to contemplate names for cats.


	17. Erro

Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat, only the unnamed children and Grey Cat.

**Chapter Seventeen: Erro**

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"Meow."

Train smirked wearily and stared down at the eager looking cat beside him. "Of course that isn't the end of the story! What kind of guy would I be if I left you hanging like that!"

The cat purred and rubbed its grey flanks against his knees cheerfully. It was a surprisingly good listener for a stray. Out of the three Train had told his story to so far, Grey Cat was the only one to stick around for his enrollment into Chronos' ranks.

"So, I met this guy named Creed Diskenth. He seemed…well, _interested _in my abilities, and wanted me to be his partner. I accepted—which may or may not be a good idea…"

Train continued his narrative, kicking his legs in a continuous rhythm against the eave of the roof he sat on: _thunkity-thunk-thunk, a-thunk-thunk. Thunkity, thunkity thunk-thunk. _

Grey Cat sat and watched him silently, seeming to listen to every word. It seemed quite content to hear what he had to say, though Train thought it was simply bored. That made sense. He wasn't all that interesting in his opinion.

_Thunkity-thunk-thunk._

"You know, when I was little I thought that men and women just held hands and they had babies right after that—like cooties, I guess. So when _Creed _touched me…well, it was nice. Weird, but nice. And besides, I was lonely and feeling sick. Creed knew that, and helped me." Train tried to burrow deeper into his coat, protecting himself from a sudden chill. "Though there are some things Creed just doesn't get."

Train turned to notice that Grey Cat was gone. Clearly he had become too self-absorbed in his tale for the cat.

"Not again," Train grumbled, scratching his unkempt hair. "Now I'm gonna have to go back the beginning when a _new _cat shows up…"

_Thunk-thunkity-thunk._

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Train's apartment was small, but it had a roof and a bed, and as far as Train was concerned that was all he needed.

As soon as he had officially rented the apartment he had collapsed on the bed (which had been infested with large bugs until Train systematically squashed them all flat) and slept like a rock for two days straight. His dreams were definitely restless and more than a little disturbing—so much so that he woke up silently screaming several times.

Train decided to ignore the fact that he often awoke with his arms outstretched toward the window, reaching out for someone—_anyone's _hand to grab onto.

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Train groaned as he sat up, feeling that something was decidedly wrong.

_Well…first off, I'm not actually in bed, I'm on the floor. _Train blinked and winced at the tingling feel of his cramped muscles. _Which is apparently made of concrete. _

He stood up shakily, nearly tripping over the tattered blanket that had followed him onto the floor. It was exactly 10 AM according to the radio alarm clock—Friday, two days after he had rented his apartment.

Train had never slept for that long. Years of being an Eraser had put him on a bizarre sleeping pattern of "work all night and power nap for three hours during the day, or four if you're lucky".

The sun softly illuminated the apartment, letting Train take in the peeling paint on the walls, the cracks in the floor, and the lumpy, uncomfortable-looking mattress that served as a bed. There were no pillows—something Train hadn't even noticed—and there was a distinct lack of any familiar human scent to the place.

Train took a closer look at the bed, trying to remember what could have prompted him to fall off it. It was itchy, threadbare and nothing like his bed at Creed's house. It was also very, very cold.

"Stop! Let go of me!"

Train rushed to the grimy window, shoving it upward and staring down to the ground below. _That sounded like a kid—!_

Just as Train had suspected, a young boy was lying on the ground, surrounded by older, stronger children. He looked to be eleven or so, from what Train could see of him.

"You're a freak!" One boy yelled, kicking the victim in the stomach. "You're nothin' but a pansy!"

The other children chimed in, laughing loudly as they pummeled the poor boy into submission.

"Loser! Girly! Mama's boy!"

Train hurried out the door and down the stairs. He was thoroughly enraged—Creed had been _right. _Even children could be devoured by hate. And those that weren't were left for the vultures.

"Stop it _NOW!_" Train roared as he charged toward the children shoving them away roughly.

He stood in front of the injured boy, his hands clenched into fists. "What the _hell _are you kids doing? He's in the same position you're in—you're all beggars, you should at least work together!"

"Yeah, right! Look at 'im! He's nothin' but a foreigner!" The first bully sneered cruelly up at Train, his small bony fingers oddly distorted—as though the had been broken. "He should just go back where he came from!"

Train glared at the bully and his goons. "You really should follow your own advice more often."

The children's eyes widened and they turned and fled, one of two of them wailing in fear.

Train snorted and turned back toward the boy, who was struggling to get to his feet. The boy's coal-black hair was surprisingly well combed for a beggar, but his clothes showed his current status. Train was thankful that winter had passed a few months ago—the boy would have died of frostbite with such tattered and threadbare clothes.

"What's your name?" Train asked quietly as the boy stared solemnly up at him.

"Lin Shaoli." The boy gingerly touched a bruise on his cheek and smiled wearily. "I'm sorry you had to come save me. That's the fifth time this week they've gone after me."

Train shook his head. "People shouldn't pick on others. Come on, I'll get some first aid stuff for you, Lin."

Lin looked flustered. "Really, you don't have to do that! I'm not that wounded—"

"A friend of mine said that we shouldn't let any wounds go without treatment—they'll get infected that way. Come on, I'll let you go when I'm done." Train gave Lin a brief smile and turned toward the apartment complex. "Coming?"

Lin nodded and followed him up the stairs to his apartment, silent and pensive.


	18. Erro Part II

**Chapter 18: Erro Part II**

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"Ouch. _Ouch._"

Train blinked and looked at Lin's wincing face. "What's wrong?"

"What's this…_stuff _you put on me?" Lin asked, pointing to the small packets in front of Train. "It hurts."

Train shrugged. "Band-aids and iodine. Never used them before?" He gently brushed Lin's hand away from his face. "Hey, don't take them off yet. They'll heal your wounds."

Lin frowned and folded his arms across his chest, looking sullen. "I hate waiting."

Train chuckled. "So do I, but I've learned that good things take awhile to come around." He looked at Lin again, who still looked irritated. "You know, if you want I can get you something to eat. What would you like?"

Lin grinned. "Nothing with mayonnaise on it."

"So basically you want everything else."

Lin nodded, looking slightly smug. "I can give you a list, if you want."

"Ouch. Nice one." Train rolled his eyes. "I'll see what I can do. Actually, why don't you come with me?"

Lin cocked his head to one side. "While I look like this?"

Train smiled slightly as he remembered his childhood in the country. "Scrapes and bruises get you pity—which means warmth and food. Come on, you'll be fine."

Train and Lin left his apartment suggesting different stores, Lin only one step behind.

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Just as Train had suspected, Lin was an instant favorite at the café they visited.

As soon as they walked in the door, the waitress cooed and offered them a seat by the window. Lin was as polite as a young street rat could be, all soft smiles and thankful looks. Train wondered if Lin had been on the streets all his life, or that his predicament was a fairly new occurrence.

Of course, his taste buds were far from delicate.

"I'll have four Strawberry Bavarois, a large vanilla puff, and a lemon muffin, please." Lin turned from the waitress to gaze smugly at Train. "Can you pay for that?"

Train nodded, mocking the boy's expression. "No problem." He flashed a quick grin at the waitress. "I'll just have a blueberry muffin."

The waitress smiled and took their orders, bustling toward the kitchen.

Train raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you can eat all that, Lin?"

Lin nodded, his blue eyes twinkling. "Every bite."

Train snickered and gazed out the window. "So much for 'you don't have to go through all this trouble', huh?"

Lin's bubbly laugh surprised Train. "Believe me, sir, when you're in my position you take what you can."

Train smiled bitterly. "Just like everyone else."

Before Lin could reply, their food arrived, and Train watched in wonder as Lin managed to devour his "meal" in a span of a few minutes. He ate the food in an orderly way that was close to alphabetical: the lemon muffin was eaten first, then the Strawberry Bavarois (which Train almost considered too finely crafted to eat), and last the vanilla puff.

"So, sir," Lin said with a chuckle, leaning his small, bony elbows on the table, "did I prove myself?"

Train pretended to tip an imaginary hat. "Bravo."

"I try."

As Lin excused himself ("Nature calls") Train gazed out the window again, wondering what Creed was up to.

_Maybe he's watering his roses, or reading poetry, or sharpening Kotetsu. _Train smirked. _Or maybe all three in that order. _

Right on cue, Creed walked past the window, looking thoughtful. Train watched as he suddenly stopped and stared up at the sky. His eyes were half-lidded, almost sensual. His hair looked as though he had recently combed it—almost grey. The white coat he wore was (as far as Train could tell) freshly ironed, and Train could see his muscles moving beneath his leopard-print top as he inhaled and exhaled slowly.

_He looks lonely, _Train thought in slight surprise. _Is the fact that I'm not around really that _bad _for him?_

Creed pulled his rose out of his pocket and stared down at it, seeming to assess it from every angle. It twirled slowly in his fingers like a crimson roulette wheel. Train watched the way Creed's fingers avoided the thorns in a precise manner, as though he had held the rose enough to know its every flaw.

And then Creed slowly turned his head to gaze knowingly at him, and Train knew the halt had been planned.

Creed grinned and mouthed "Miss me?" before walking into the café. Train frowned in embarrassment as Creed sat in the vacant seat, noticeably leaving Lin's alone.

Train soon realized why—Lin was getting more food from the waitress, his back turned. Train felt himself grow irritated at the look Creed gave him; a look of "Oh, dear. Someone's getting _desperate._"

Creed also had an air of ease about him, as though he knew that his place in Train's life was secure.

"I see you have a little _eromenos_ for the time being." Creed snickered as Train felt his cheeks grow red. "I'm _kidding, _Train. I know you wouldn't swing _that _far."

"I'm not ready to come back," Train said softly as he continued to eat his muffin. "I still have to figure things out. It isn't…pieced together right."

"And you think taking care of a boy for a few days will help things along?"

Train shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe he will."

Creed smirked. "The purity of youth, I assume?"

Train snorted. "Look at him, Creed. If you've taught me anything this past month, it's that children are always the first to be used."

Creed inclined his head in acknowledgement. "Exactly."

Train felt his mood sour as Creed's eyes settled on the back of Lin's neck, his smug expression persisting. "What's got _you_ so interested?"

"I wonder…he moves like a man with a purpose—a strange little attribute for someone his age." Creed's eyes chilled Train. "Are you going to expand on that?"

"None of your business."

"True." Creed stood up. "So, when will I see you again?"

"Two weeks, maybe a month. We'll see."

Creed nodded. "Very well then. See you later." He grinned. "And take good care of that boy, Train. It looks to me like he has the beginnings of a fine Eraser."

As Creed left the café, Lin returned, now bearing several raspberry tarts. "Would you like some?" he asked, his eyes briefly flickering toward the door.

"Sure."


	19. Omnia Munda Mundis

After this chapter, _Amantes sunt Amentes _will return to it's usual posting schedule—on weekends. Unless, of course, I find some free time during the week (which will be rare, I can guarantee that).

Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat.

**Chapter Nineteen: Omnia Munda Mundis**

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Creed pondered what he had seen of the boy as he prepared for bed, sliding into the Jacuzzi without a sound.

_He looked like he had been through quite the tussle… _he thought as the bubbles created a dull roar around him. _Train probably saved him. _

Creed smiled at the idea of Train risking his life to save another's. It was just like him to do something so.._.cliche. _It was one more thing that made Train a unique Chronos Number.

_Perhaps the boy will benefit from being in Train's care for a little while. _Creed's brow furrowed as he pushed certain unsavory memories away. _He will get the chance to learn what I never did. _

Suddenly there came a muffled knocking from downstairs. Creed jumped up and made an undignified scramble for the Jacuzzi's edge, where his bathrobe lay neatly folded.

"Coming!" he called, hurriedly yanking it on, barely stopping to towel his hair dry. "I'll be right down!"

He left a dripping trail in his wake as he rushed down the stairs, trying not to hope for a new Mission. He wanted Train to be at his best when they next went on a Mission—calm, collected, and self-assured, that was how Black Cat had to be.

Creed reached the door and yanked it open, startled to find a familiar shivering form staring up at him.

"H-H-Hello, Mr. D," Saya said shakily, looking as though the heavy gusts of wind that swirled around her would blow her away any second. "Any r-room for me in there?"

Creed nodded and inclined his hand. "Yes indeed."

Saya hopped inside, still shivering. Creed winced as the door slammed behind her. Winter may have been over, but for some reason it was always rather blustery in mid-March.

"Make yourself comfortable. Would you like a drink?" Creed scrutinized the refrigerator as Saya sat in a chair by the radio, already beginning to warm up. "Tea? Hot chocolate? Milk?"

"Warm milk is fine," Saya said simply, rubbing her hands together.

"Good choice." He poured a copious amount of milk into a mug and placed it in the microwave, setting the timer for a minute.

"I have a question." He turned back to Saya, looking dubious. "I thought you left. What prompted you to come back?"

Saya shivered again. "Well, I was on my way out of town, but I heard there were more bounties posted. I realized I didn't have much money with me, so…"

The timer went off, and Creed took the milk out of the microwave and handed it to Saya. Saya grinned and waited for it to cool, saying "Thanks!" while a soft wisp of steam swirled in front of her face.

Creed nodded. "I see." He chuckled. "And then it started to get cold, and you 'somehow' found my house."

Saya gave him a deadpan look that made Creed laugh. "It's not that hard to find when the sign above your door says 'Diskenth', you know."

"Whoops." Creed shrugged. "Moot point." He leaned casually against the wall, saying "Well, then, any idea how long you'll be staying?"

Saya winked. "Until I get my bounty—which won't take long."

"Oooh, aren't _we _cocky."

"Hey, you're supposed to be a gentleman, right? Since when do gentlemen mock _ladies_?"

Creed put his hand to his heart in mock distress. "Oh, _no_! I believe I've insulted a lady!" He fell to his knees, looking the picture of dejection. "Surely some horrid demon will come and strike me down!"

Saya laughed. "Somehow I get the feeling you've said that before."

Creed grinned. "Maybe, maybe not. But I _can _tell you that I try my best to be a gentleman to every lady."

"Because it gets you places." Saya giggled at Creed's surprised look. "Mr. D, I've seen guys like you before, and they _always _do that. They act so nice, kissing girls on the hand and all that, but in the end the girls always end up crying."

Creed stood up and cocked his head to one side. "Really? Well, I try to avoid that."

Saya smiled. "Really?"

"Is that doubt I hear?" Creed smirked. "Well, then, I'll prove it to you. Be right back."

Creed ran up the stairs to his closet and pulled out a fake sword. He had used it during assassinations before as a ploy, but he decided that it could be used for entertainment as well. Besides, he needed _something _to take his mind off Train—seeing what could make such a strange girl laugh was just the thing.

Trying not to rush things, he changed into a white dueling shirt and a pair of black pants, deciding that a bathrobe was simply not the thing to wear when there was a guest in the house. Grabbing the fake sword he hurried back downstairs to where Saya still sat, her smile even wider.

"Nice," she said, her eyes dancing. "You look like Prince Charming."

Creed blinked. "Prince who?"

Saya's eyebrows rose. "_You _don't know who Prince Charming is?"

Creed shrugged. "If he's a childhood staple, then I never learned about him."

Saya leaned forward, the long sleeves of her yukata trailing across the table. "Well, in every fairy tale, along with princesses and dragons and that kind of thing, there's always a Prince Charming who rides in, saves the day, and marries the princess. He's always very handsome, kind and romantic." She rolled her eyes. "And every girl grows up looking for him."

"Every girl except you?" Creed asked teasingly.

Saya nodded. "That's right! I don't want to be swept off my feet like other girls, you know. I just want to do what I want to do."

Creed grinned and brandished his sword. "So what exactly does this Prince Charming do when he enters the story?"

Saya grinned in return. "Well, usually he comes in on a white horse and fights off the bad guys…"

"No horses here." Creed shrugged and pretended to fight off a horde of faceless villains, making dramatic flourishes as he danced across the kitchen floor. "Back! Back you fiends!" he cried, inwardly imagining the support of an orchestral accompaniment.

"And then he faces the dragon, who tries to burn him with his fierce dragon breath…but it never works." Saya was clearly getting into it, as she was leaning forward as she sat to watch Creed's antics.

Creed defended himself against the onslaught of imaginary flames, steadily walking toward the monstrous dragon, grinning triumphantly as he "slew" it with a single stroke.

Saya clapped enthusiastically and continued her narrative: "After that he fights the evil witch and saves the girl!"

Creed's imagination took hold once again, returning him to his own past. But this time, a dark cloud surrounded his thoughts.

His mother would have made a beautiful enchantress if not for her drunken rages.

He relished the expression on his "dear mother's" face as he imagined cutting her in two. It was a gentler version of her original death—when she had been throttled by her sweet little boy. The boy who simply had had _enough _of her hatred, and the flowers he picked so carefully for her.

He couldn't fight the smirk on his lips as he wiped the imaginary blood off the sword.

_One more witch who'll never cast a spell on anyone ever again, _he thought smugly as he turned toward Saya, his expression far more relaxed.

"Now what?" he asked as he laid the sword on the floor.

Saya frowned, looking worried. "Are you sure you're okay? You looked…well, kind of creepy just now."

Creed blinked. "I did?"

Saya nodded. "Did I say something wrong?"

Creed shook his head, smiling softly. "Oh, no, nothing at all. I just fought a witch and won, that's all."

"You don't like witches?"

"Of course not. They're cruel, twisted, and do whatever they can to keep you under their spell."

Saya smiled. "Well, you got rid of one. But as for what happens now…Well…I guess that's when the happily ever after starts."

Creed grinned and bowed with a flourish. "My princess, I have come. Together we shall live happily until the end of our days!" With that he scooped Saya up and spun her around, watching her shriek with glee, her face turning red.

"Mr. D, put me down! _I'm _not the princess here!"

Creed laughed and tossed her briefly up into the air before catching her again. "But the narrator should have fun now and then, right?"

She laughed and playfully banged her fists against his chest. "Come on, cut it out! I've already said the happily ever after!"

"You said it _started, _remember? I'll stop if you actually _say _it!"

Creed laughed louder when Saya made a face and shook her head. "Come _on_, Mr. D!"

"Say it loud and say it proud, your Highness!" Creed said mockingly, growing euphoric on the dizziness his twirling was causing and Saya's amusing reaction.

"Fine, fine! 'And they lived happily ever after'!"

Saya giggled feebly when Creed placed her back in her seat, feeling thoroughly pleased with himself. It had been a long time since he had played an innocent prank on someone, and he had to admit that it felt quite nice.

Creed stared at the mug of milk. "Whoops. Looks like the milk's gone cold."

Saya smiled. "It's fine. Milk is milk, and fun is fun." She gulped it down loudly, letting out a sigh of contentment. "I'd better go. I think the wind's dying down."

Creed smiled in return. "That was…fun. I think I'll have to look up a few stories about Prince Charming in the future."

Saya giggled. "What, and turn it into a flirting tactic?"

Creed cocked his head to one side, the adrenalin rush fading. "I doubt that."

"I hope so." Saya headed toward the door, her sandals clacking loudly on the kitchen floor. "There are some things you have to keep sacred—for memory's sake, you know?"


	20. De Bene Esse

This chapter (though a little short) was inspired by the songs "Feels Like Tonight" by Daughtry and "Rooftops" by Lost Prophets. And as for the length…well, I feel that it works fine on its own.

Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat.

**Chapter Twenty: De Bene Esse**

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Saya walked out into the darkness, humming under her breath.

She could still see the look in Mr. D's eyes when she mentioned the evil witch. It had terrified her—even more so when she realized that Mr. D had no idea how he had reacted. It was clear he had an "interesting" past, one that he had to work through.

But it had been worth it to watch the way he smiled and laughed with glee as he danced around the kitchen, playing the role of Prince Charming so effortlessly. It was true—he _was _a handsome man (little more than a boy, really) who knew exactly the reaction he inspired in people.

Except Saya, of course. After all, there had to be _someone _who could resist the irresistible. Where would the world's women be then?

Saya laughed as she skipped off into the night.

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Creed sat at the kitchen table, silently staring at the empty mug.

_It's strange. She drank the milk quickly, but she savored it too. Train drinks like that, only he seems troubled sometimes. Saya seems to have no worries at all._

Creed picked up the mug and carried it to the sink, quickly tossing it into the dishwasher. He walked determinedly up to his balcony, staring out into the glittering city lights.

_Can Train lose his worries as quickly as Saya? Can I save him too?_

Creed grinned and reached out into the distance, closing his fist tightly, imagining it was Train's arm.

He could do it. He _would _do it. He would help Train become the greatest Eraser in all of Chronos, the greatest in the world. He and Train would change the world _together, _and no one would ever stand in their way.

They would make the world perfect, and Saya would get to truly say "I told you so. I _told _you you're Prince Charming!"

And he and Train would be the epitome of "happily ever after".

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Somewhere in the city, Train shuddered in the dark.

"What is it, Mr. Heartnet?" Lin asked quietly from his comfortable position on Train's itchy mattress. It was like heaven to him compared to his usual lodgings.

"Nothing. I just…felt happy…and a little sad." Train watched the moon as it floated serenely overhead. "I can't figure out if something good or bad just happened."

"Try both." Lin chuckled and closed his eyes. "Good night."

"G'night." Train leaned against the wall, yawning and falling asleep.

His dreams were coated in the image of a rose slowly pricking his fingers with its thorns, and a pale hand beckoning him closer into the embrace of a rose blossom dripping blood.


	21. Vir

Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat.

**Chapter Twenty-One: Vir**

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Train had to admit that after two weeks and two days of Lin "resting" (i.e. freeloading) at his apartment, he was getting a little annoyed with the kid.

Of course, it didn't help that Train was starting to grow edgy due to the lack of Missions. It felt odd to not be going _somewhere_, doing_ something_.

He was beginning to almost rethink his plan to sort things out in a month.

His hands still felt dirty, no matter how many times he washed them or how many ice cream cones he bought Lin. It didn't matter—no matter how many times he made Lin laugh, or the way Lin listened intently to his words of advice regarding fighting ("the solar plexus is the best place to stun someone"), Train still heard the_ screams_ invading his thoughts_._

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"Mr. Heartnet?" Lin asked as Train slowly opened his eyes to the boy's worried expression. "Are you feeling all right?"

Train halted in mid-nod. "On second thought…I have a question to ask you, Lin."

"Yes?"

"Why do you think people kill?"

He noted Lin's stiff posture as he sat down beside him on the rooftop. It was a surprisingly warm afternoon for early April, all things considered. There were a few small off-white clouds in the sky, but Train didn't really register them.

"I suppose…" Lin frowned and bit his lip, staring off into the distance. "I suppose they kill because they think it's the right thing to do."

"'The right thing to do'? Really?" Train stared at Lin in surprise, wondering how such a mellow boy came to such an…_adult_ conclusion.

Lin's chuckle was as sour as a salt-covered lemon. "Train, I have seen children murder their own _parents_ because of someone's well-planned speech. If you felt you could erase all evil from the world, would you do it?"

Train felt a pang in his heart. "Yeah," he said softly. "Yeah, I would."

Lin smiled grimly. "There, you see?"

Train frowned. "But that still doesn't explain the other reasons people kill, Lin."

Lin shrugged. "Different personalities mean different reasons for doing things. I don't know, Mr. Heartnet—we humans are a varied species, you know that."

"I guess you're right…"

They sat in silence for a few moments, the honking cars and chattering civilians below somehow growing faint and almost non-existent.

Train stared at Lin's delicate form made even more slender by the baggy blue shirt and black pants he wore. He couldn't help but wonder what puberty would do to the boy—he seemed more worldly than even Train had been at the age of eleven. What would such a cynical boy become in the end?

Train hoped that at the very least Lin would know right from wrong—so at least _someone _would know.

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The next morning Train awoke to the sound of silence in his small apartment.

He couldn't see Lin anywhere. There was no soft humming out on the rooftop, no soft walking across the concrete floor, and no cheerful awakening by a pair of eager blue eyes.

Train rubbed his eyes and crawled out of bed, glancing around him. Even the numerous books he had bought Lin of magicians and magic tricks (apparently Lin's favorite reads) were gone.

Suddenly Train noticed several pieces of worn notebook paper by his bed addressed to "Trane" in very messy script. He picked them up and read them slowly in order—the handwriting and spelling were almost as bad as his, though the actual content was more formal than usual for Lin. Finally he managed to translate it:

_Dear Mr. Trane (I can't spell your last name, sorry)_

_Thank you for taking care of me. Sorry if I was leeching off you for a while, but I wasn't used to such kind words. I brought everything you gave me with me, so that I could treasure them. _

_Thank you for teaching me how to protect myself. I'll practice every day (by myself, of course) so that you won't have to save me again. I don't think your bank account would be able to handle that!_

_And thank you for taking me to see that traveling circus a few days ago. You have no idea how amazing it was to see a real live magician perform magic tricks in front of me! The way he moved so quickly and the way he…I think the word is "flourished", but I'm not sure. Anyway, it still makes me smile when I think about the way he produced all those doves from his sleeves, making everyone laugh and clap. Even you were amazed, Mr. Trane, don't deny it. _

_But the crowning moment was when you urged me to volunteer when the magician was asking around. To be able to stand in front of so many people and help a great entertainer perform was my biggest wish coming true!_

_Again, thank you, Mr. Trane, with all my heart. _

_Now for my Unneeded Musings. _

_I noticed that you seem very lonely and confused, even though it's obvious my being around has given you something else to focus on. Death and killing is not a rare thing in this world, Trane. People die. It happens. People sell each other out for money. People are greedy and charitable all at once. _

_To be completely blunt, Mr. Trane, people are the weirdest creatures you will ever come across. Especially nice people like you._

_You've been very good to me, Mr. Trane, and I'm grateful. But remember that not all beggars are in TRUE need of help. _

_You are a gruff but kind person, Mr. Trane, and people WILL use that against you. Someday you could find yourself cheated of everything you hold dear._

_I know that you have a friend who is more than willing to keep you safe. Mr. Trane, I know that you think that you don't need companions; that you're a monster, but think about it. If even ONE person decides to talk to you and be your friend, doesn't that mean something? _

_Personally, I think a thank-you is in order. _

_There is safety in numbers. You probably know that already, but I hope you don't mind my repeating it. That is why I'm going to find an orphanage and see if I can be adopted. If not, then at least I will have a place to stay with others my age. _

_In truth, Mr. Trane, I would like you to forget about me for awhile. I will be able to take care of myself—you've made sure of that._

_Perhaps we'll see each other again. If we do, I would like it very much if we were able to fight on the same side. Who knows, maybe I'll even beat you in a fight someday!_

_All the best,_

_Lin Shaoli_

_P.S. Really, you should burn this after you read it—if you can. I don't want any traces of my horrid writing._

Train stared at the letter for a few moments before tearing it in half and crumpling and tearing it into nothingness. He figured he could do at least that much for Lin.

He peered out the window to see if Lin had already left. Dimly he saw a black-haired boy trotting off down a street, a slight spring in his step.

"Well, at least I made someone happy…" Train told himself as he decided to enjoy life on the rooftop again for a while, as he thought things through.


	22. Post Tenebras Lux

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Post Tenebras Lux**

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_April 8__th__ sounds like the perfect day for something to go wrong, _Creed thought with a chuckle as he wandered aimlessly around the seedier area of the city, growing impatient with Train's absence. _It would be a fine day for a revolution…_

He kicked a few empty beer cans out of his way, watching them idly as they skidded away into the darkness of an alley where he could faintly hear the sounds of a harlot giving someone their money's worth. The other alleys he walked by held other noises—drunken chattering and someone being mugged (and fighting back, apparently).

A hoodlum shoved Creed out of his way roughly, calling him a "pretty boy".

_Clink, _went a little piece of Creed's carefully constructed armor of self control. Still, he closed his eyes and continued on his way, thinking of roses and Saya and Train.

A harlot called out to him with absolutely _no _sense of sensuality, and Creed politely brushed her off. Then she called him a loser.

_Clink. _He thought of Train's gold eyes in the darkness, shining with murderous intent.

Creed loathed the slums—partially because he had grown up there, and also because he knew that he wasn't ready to give all of those victims a second chance. Though he hated to admit it, he wasn't strong enough just yet.

He needed the proper…well, _group of comrades _for a true ascendance to world salvation. He needed Train to know what it meant to be second-in-command, to be _Creed's _second-in-command and his partner.

He continued his idle walk, thoroughly bored. Saya had briefly visited a few days previously with the intention of helping Creed care for his roses. As thanks, Creed had given her a white rose ("It suits someone as pure as you") and Saya had thanked _him _by teaching him how to make origami.

Everything had been fine until Creed had run out of black paper. Saya was gone—out to get another bounty—and so he had absolutely nothing to do.

So he walked, trying not to let his irritation show.

Suddenly Creed heard a familiar voice off to his left, through yet another alleyway:

"Don't underestimate me! I'm not just a little girl!"

"Oh, don't worry, lil' lady, we're not underestimatin' you at _all…_" a tobacco-roughened voice said tauntingly, as ominous chuckling was heard.

_Clink._

Creed automatically followed the voices, his footsteps not making a sound. The city lights grew dimmer as he walked, but Creed knew that the moonlight would be enough illumination on the scene. He felt a half-buried instinct rise up inside him—the need to protect what little gifts life had given him.

He heard the sound of bullets pinging off something—a wall, most likely—and the sound of a man yelping in pain. Then there was a scream of pain and terror from a far more delicate mouth and Creed all but _bolted _toward it.

_Saya, don't be— _Creed crushed the thought hurriedly before he drew Kotetsu from its sheath.

Saya was surrounded by a group of thugs, each one larger and hairier than the next. One of them was clutching his shoulder in agony, while the rest were swarming around Saya like flies, saying "Let's see what's under that robe o' yers, lil' lady!"

Saya was in a tight spot, Creed could tell—no matter how skilled she was with a gun, it was clear she still needed practice—and she was re-loading her gun and preparing to fire. Just before she could aim for their hearts, one of the thugs reached out for her robe.

They didn't even care about their wounded friend. All they wanted was her body.

They were going to _rape Creed's friend._

_Clinkclinkclinkclinkclinkclink_

_**snap **_

"GET THE HELL AWAY FROM HER."

The world was lost in a blur of red and screams of agony. Creed relished the wet sounds of skin splitting open, blood being spilt, and the delicious screams that accompanied them. He couldn't stop the laughter that bubbled from his throat like festive champagne, cruel and bitter and nearly making him choke. Nor could he stop the tears of frustration that threatened to fall.

He heard himself rage against the thugs, calling them every foul name he could think of, and could hear Saya's words ever more faintly. What was she saying…?

"…hurt them! Mr. D, please, _stop it…_!"

Creed halted and turned to face her, idly noting that he was drenched in blood and what he assumed to be someone's guts. He would need a new shirt and jacket.

Saya was staring at him in horror, one hand yanking her yukata back into place in a manner that was almost robotic. It occurred to Creed that Saya was only thirteen years old. While she had clearly seen some hardship—her pistol was proof enough—Creed had a feeling she had never truly seen an Eraser at work.

He had just marred a child's innocence—_her _innocence.

"What is it?" he asked, using a thug's coat to clean Kotetsu's blade. "Are you alright, Saya?"

Saya's pretty blue eyes trembled, and Creed was surprised by the sudden rage she thrust at him.

"_Why? _Why did you have to kill them, Mr. D?! I had already brought their leader down, it wouldn't have taken long for me to deal with them! It would have only taken a few more shots, and they would've been sent to the hospital at least. You didn't—you didn't—"

"Didn't have to protect you?" Creed asked softly, sliding Kotetsu back into its sheath. "They were going to _rape you, _Saya. What would you have done to prevent that? Or were you going to _talk _them out of it?"

"No, I would have fought back—"

"You wouldn't have had time to aim for their hearts—"

"I wasn't even aiming for _that, _Mr. D! I would have hit their arms and made them unable to hurt me! Don't you get it? _You don't have to kill in order to survive!_"

Saya was furious, and Creed had no idea how to fix the situation. He stared at her as tears began to fall down her face and her hands began to tremble as they clenched into fists.

"I know that you've b-been through a lot, and I know that y-you only know one way to end things, but Mr. D, it can't hurt to—to learn a new way, can it?"

Creed felt his temper flare again. "And who says yours is the right way, huh? Who says that _you _have the answers to everything? You're just a _child, _a little child who still believes in fairy tales and happily ever after!"

Saya wailed "But _you're _a kid too, Mr. D! You've got an innocent side to you, too! You don't have to kill and be alone, you can _repent!_"

Creed stared at her. "Is that all?" he whispered, feeling a cruel, painful grin stretch across his face. "Am I just a lonely child to you, Saya?"

He stepped closer to her, knowing that he wasn't going about things the right way, that he needed to _think, _but he just didn't care. The blood was beginning to dry on his clothes, and the bodies were growing cold and still.

"Tell me," Creed whispered in Saya's ear, "would a child do this?" He kissed her wrist, feeling her hurried pulse. "Would a _child _have countless worthless lovers and only _one _that he actually cared about?"

Saya didn't move as he pressed his lips to her cold cheek, winding his fingers through her hair. It was surprisingly silky, just like his. He stared at her eyes and knew that she was shutting down.

"What about Prince Charming, Saya?" Creed asked coldly. "Would _he _kill to save his princess? Or is he simply too _perfect _for such a monstrous thing?"

Saya stayed silent, her eyes filled with pity.

Creed pulled away from her and turned away. "I am not a child, Saya. I never was. Please leave and forget this. I'm not your Prince Charming. Save yourself."

"Mr. D—"

Creed gave her his most predatory look, knowing it would make her leave. "Did you know that the _original _Prince Charming raped Sleeping Beauty?"

Saya turned and fled with a cry of "You're hopeless!"

As soon as her footsteps faded away Creed collapsed onto the bloodied ground. He didn't sob or wail, just knelt there in the moonlight.

He had no idea how long he was there, crying silently. It was the only thing he knew how to do in such a situation. He felt horrible, tainted.

_Creed Diskenth, the tainted artist…yes, that's fitting…of course. Am I_ _tainted? _Creed let out a chilling giggle. _I wonder if it even matters…_

"Meow."

Creed looked up from his morose position to find a grey cat sitting in front of him, looking curious. Its green eyes looked like jade in the moonlight.

"Hey, Grey Cat seems to like hearing stories. If you're willing to spill, he's more than happy to listen…and so am I."

Creed felt his heart nearly explode with relief as Train crouched down beside him, barely giving the corpses a cursory glance.

"I think three weeks and four days is long enough." Train held out his hand. "Come on, we've got to get you out of those clothes."


	23. Placebo

Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat.

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Placebo**

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Creed nearly broke down as he was setting foot in the Jacuzzi.

_What did I do wrong, Saya? _His thoughts were bitter as he adjusted the temperature of the bath.

He underestimated how hot the Jacuzzi had become, and flinched at the sudden heat. Still, he slid farther into the water, wincing less as he descended. As he slid deeper into the comforting, albeit abrupt warmth, his mind drifted farther away from the memory of Saya's anger.

Creed closed his eyes and listened to the soft murmur of the bubbles. He could hear Train chasing Grey Cat down the hallway: "Don't get mud everywhere! I'll give you milk in a minute!"

His lips curled as he settled himself even deeper into the water, almost completely submerged. It was wonderful to have Train back, and with a cat no less. Clearly Train was feeling better.

_I hope he's willing to be patient…I'm still not sure how that little brat got to me. _

After a few minutes he climbed out of the Jacuzzi and pulled on a white bathrobe, enjoying the soft feel of the warm cloth against his body. He walked out into the hall, checking the clock on the wall as he went—11:25 PM.

Creed yawned and scratched his still-wet hair as he passed Train's room, smiling softly as Train waved goodnight to him.

"It's good to have you back, Train," he called before turning in for the night. "I missed you."

Train nodded.

Creed grinned and turned off the light.

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Creed slept in, much to his surprise.

He awoke to huge beams of sunlight bursting through his window, and he sat up groggily. His bathrobe was rumpled due to hours of difficult sleep, and his hair resembled a ball of electric-shocked fluff. He tried to get it into order.

Train was up before he was, if the smell of something burning was anything to go by. Creed chuckled and headed down the stairs, forgetting about his hair for the moment.

Thankfully Train had been clever enough to avoid starting a major fire. Creed couldn't help but smirk at Train's embarrassed expression as he scraped what had once been a pancake off of the pan and onto a plate.

"Well, here's breakfast…" Train said with a forced grin, handing the plate and a fork to Creed who took them with an amused expression.

"_Well. _I'm sure _this_ will be a new experience." Creed settled down at the kitchen table and managed to hack off a piece of the char-cake with his fork, trying not to laugh as the piece of "food" showed itself to have to consistency of a potato chip.

"How is it?" Train asked wryly.

Creed managed to swallow the char-cake. "Yum_._"

"Seriously?"

"I've never had anything like it," Creed assured Train, somehow managing to keep a straight face.

"I'll bet." Train rolled his eyes and moved toward the refrigerator. "Want something else?"

"Oh, no, I'll be fine."

Train gave Creed a look, his eyes showing a hint of amusement. "Don't choke."

"Don't worry, Train, I've learned to overcome my gag reflex for the most part."

Train raised an eyebrow.

Creed smirked.

"I hope you didn't neglect anything, being so busy and all."

"Oh, no,_ everything_ was perfectly taken care of."

"Everything?"

Creed shrugged. "Well…"

Train snorted and took a bottle of milk out of the fridge, chugging it down. Creed laughed softly and returned to his breakfast.

_I win. _

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There were no Missions from Chronos, but that didn't stop Creed or Train from checking the answering machine every so often.

It seemed that, for a short time, the world had fallen into a period of peace. No crime lords, no drug rings…even the corrupt politicians had taken a break it seemed. Chronos could relax—and they were left to keeping a wary eye for anything even slightly suspicious.

…And that left Creed and Train with very little to do. Things were even slow at the flower boutique.

Creed found his thoughts returning to Saya, and that night, more often than he'd like to admit.

_I hope she at least found a hotel to stay at, _Creed thought as he tended his roses. _Perhaps she will forget about me. It's for the best._

He winced as her cry of "You're hopeless!" echoed in his ears. Even the white roses seemed to sway mockingly in the breeze, and he nearly upset the watering bucket as he quickly turned his back on them.

_I need a distraction. A Mission, Grey Cat, Train, anything…_

Right on cue, Train appeared on the balcony, looking slightly worried. "You seem a little…well, _off, _Creed. We can't have you like that if a Mission comes up." He leaned against the railing, his black t-shirt softly billowing in the breeze. "Need anything?"

Creed raised an eyebrow. "Since when did we change roles, Train?"

"Since I realized that I _really _should be paying you back for giving me the chance to take care of things on my own." Train yawned and cocked his head to one side, clearly pleased by the sun's warmth. "And besides, doesn't our partnership demand that we get each other out of tight spots?"

Creed grinned. "True. Thank you, Train. In order to be the best, to be _at _our best, we need to take care of each other, emotionally and physically."

Train nodded, looking pleased. "Right. So, what do you want to do?"

_Anything that involves you and killing time, _Creed's mind said bluntly, while Creed replied "I don't know, Train. What did you have in mind?"

Train moved closer to him, his eyes holding a slight hint of compassion—something that Creed decided only looked good on Train.

_I wonder how long this mood of his is going to last… _Creed thought as he grinned in response.

"You've taught me a few things since we've been partners, Creed," Train said so quietly that Creed could barely hear him. "Last night, something happened—something that really hurt you. I want to help. One good turn deserves another…?"

Creed smiled. "Thank you."

Train shrugged and took Creed by the hand. "No problem."


	24. Placebo Part II

Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat, save for a few select pieces of Creed and Train's pasts, e.g. how Train's parents met, his hometown, Creed's life post-"Mother Dearest", etc.

**Chapter Twenty-Four: Placebo Part II**

Creed was glad that Train's idea of helping was a "game".

"All right…let's begin: do you know how you were named?"

Creed raised an eyebrow as Train lazily plucked a strawberry out of the slowly emptying bowl and popped it into his mouth. "You'd think that would be an easy one for you to figure out, Train."

Train shrugged. "You have to answer every question. That's the rule."

"I chose it myself. I read it in a book, looked up its definition, and thought it suited me in an ironic way...'Creed, the rule breaker'." Creed ate another strawberry. "How about yours?"

Train snickered. "My parents met on a train, got married on a train, and had their honeymoon on a train. They liked to travel and did a lot of it until I came around." He frowned. "And Dad used to say I sounded like a train whistle when I got mad or cried. When he said that, it sounded so funny I used to always wind up laughing instead."

Creed grinned. "Somehow it's not too hard to imagine you as a child. Hmm…" He tapped his finger against his chin thoughtfully. "Why do you like roofs so much?"

"The first thing I can remember from my old life is being on a rooftop." Train shrugged. "Mom and Dad used to sit next to me whenever I went up on the roof of our house so that I wouldn't fall, but after awhile I got so good at keeping my balance they just watched from a distance."

Creed nodded, wondering what it was like to have someone that worried about you. "And you never fell?"

Train shook his head. "Not once. Also, the roof was the best place to watch the fireworks." His eyes seemed to grow misty, and Creed couldn't help but smile at the reaction. "And I used to love fireworks. The festivals are one of the few good things about this city. I love the way the fireworks explode so loudly yet make such nice colors. You don't really expect that."

"They're like exploding paintings. I like them too." Creed smiled at Train's expression—his eyes had brightened with Creed's remark.

"Anyway, where did _you_ grow up?" Train cocked his head to one side, looking interested.

Creed laced his fingers together and leaned forward, trying to remember. "…The first place I remember…it was a high-class apartment, maybe in the Northeast side of a city. _This _city, in fact. Then after a bit of an accident…I found myself on the streets."

_A little half-truth never hurt anyone, _Creed thought with an inward smile. _I'm sure he's only telling me half of the story as well._

"What then?" Train asked curiously.

"At a very young age I became a hired killer of sorts for anyone who could pay for my deadly services. Then, when I reached thirteen…" Creed smiled thinly. "Well, you know how _that _turned out."

Train made a face. "Society welcomed you back with open arms, huh?"

Creed snickered. "Far too openly."

They sat in silence for a few moments as the bell tower that stood so majestically in the horizon boomed out the beginning of the afternoon.

They moved on to the next bowl of strawberries and the next question.

"Did you have any friends before you became an Eraser?" Creed asked.

Train shook his head. "I didn't really like other kids. They were too noisy. I've always liked quiet places—like this house—better than busy places. So I kept to myself, doing the usual kid stuff."

"You lived in a world of your own." Creed knew the feeling.

"Yeah." Train became more alert. "Okay, here's a question for you: why do you like roses so much?"

Creed laughed softly.

"They're the first good thing I can remember. One of the earliest things I can remember—besides countless wine bottles and glasses being filled—is getting my finger pricked by a rose thorn." He smiled. "That was when I discovered that beauty and pain are often one and the same. Call it a child's epiphany."

Train smirked. "I can just see your face when _that_ happened!"

Creed laughed. "Oh, yes. 'Why didn't I see this before!' and all that. That was when I decided to take matters into my own hands."

They fell into a comfortable silence, popping the strawberries into their mouths until the second bowl was empty. Creed made a contented noise at the cold, bittersweet taste that accompanied the berries and slouched comfortably in his leather chair, feeling sleepy. Train seemed to be in a similar condition—curled up in his chair, his eyes drifting closed.

Creed watched silently as Train's chest rose and fell softly as he drifted into sleep.

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While Train was asleep, Creed took care of the general chores.

He washed the dishes, fed Grey Cat, made the beds, watered his roses again, and cleaned Kotetsu's blade. The last was more of a ritual—there were no remaining bloodstains. Every so often he would check on Train, who somehow managed to sleep through the clattering of dishes and Grey Cat's meowing.

Creed eventually re-entered the living room and sat in the chair he had vacated, watching Train sleep.

_What are you dreaming of, Train? _Creed thought to himself, chuckling as Train made a soft noise in his throat and wriggled slightly in his sleep.

He watched the sunlight trail down Train's face like melting butter and felt something resembling contentment.

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_Train sat on the rooftop of his parents' house, watching the fireworks._

_The setting was a little blurry, but the feeling of the scratchy, hot roof on a muggy summer night hadn't changed in the least. He leaned forward, clapping at a brilliant yellow display after an explosion that made the house tremble._

"_Beautiful, isn't it?" Creed suddenly asked, sitting close to him. Train stared at the tiny droplets of sweat that were illuminated by the light of the fireworks. "This really is the best place to see them."_

_Train nodded, watching the way Creed's blue t-shirt clung to him as he fidgeted. "Not used to the roof tiles, Creed?" he asked with a teasing tone. _

_Creed shuffled some more and grumbled "How on Earth do you stand it?" _

_Train tried not to look too hard at Creed's jeans (a surprising choice for Creed, as he was generally not the sort to wear them). They too were clearly clinging to him._

"_Oh, you'll get used to it, don't worry about that."_

_Creed shrugged and smiled. _

The scene changed.

_Creed's mouth was turned down in a little moue of disappointment as his popsicle began to melt. The sticky blue remains of what had once been a cotton candy-flavored treat trailed down his hands, then his arms, and dripped slowly off his elbows and down onto the dirt road before them. _

_Train laughed loudly—something Train would only be able to do in his dreams—and leaned closer. "Creed, didn't you know you're supposed to eat the thing before it melts!"_

_Creed smirked and attempted to lick the treat off his hands, his now-blue tongue turning an even deeper shade as he tried to get rid of the mess. "You're the one who dropped yours in the ditch."_

_It was sweltering, muggy, and the very air left their bodies feeling wrung out and useless. Train didn't really want to move anymore, and yet he and Creed kept moving forward anyway. _

_Sweat was beading up on Creed's heart-shaped face and dripping with an exaggerated, luxurious slowness. Somehow Train knew that such a thing wouldn't happen in reality, but then Creed's existence often seemed like a dream anyway. _

_Creed was intent on getting all the sugar off his arms. Train took off his shirt and handed it to him without a second thought. _

_Creed nodded his thanks and used the shirt to get rid of the rest of the mess._

_He pointed to a cluster of trees. "Why don't we stop there, Train?" _

_It felt a little better in the shade, but it was still summer, and summer always means heat—in a good way, most of the time. The warmth was welcome in the little country town where Train had grown up—where he and Creed were now—the winters were always harsh. _

_The familiarity and nostalgia of the setting somehow made what happened next between Train and Creed even more sensual…_

Train awoke to an uncomfortable position in his chair—and heard Creed's surprisingly embarrassed chuckle coming from the next room.


	25. Placebo Part III

Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat, the musical described herein (technically, though it's vague enough) or "The Phantom of the Opera" from _The Phantom of the Opera._

**Chapter Twenty-Five: Placebo Part III**

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"Creed, why are we here?" Train asked on April 13, staring up at the looming monolith in front of them.

Creed shrugged and smiled. "I suppose you could call it my present to you. Come inside."

Train followed Creed through the ornate doors of the theatre, surprised at the large crowd of people waiting patiently for the evening's performance. The conversation was light and excited, and it was clear that Creed was equally enthusiastic.

"This will be the debut, Train!" Creed said, his grin wide enough to split his face. "We will be the first audience this cast bows for. We are the ones that will make or break them!"

Train couldn't help but feel equally enthused. "What's this play about, anyway?"

Creed chuckled. "Mystery, music, passion. You'll see, Train. You'll see."

Soon the doors opened, and the crowd filed in, took their seats in the grand theatre (Creed lead Train to Box 5, chuckling to himself the whole way), and waited until the lights dimmed into nothingness.

The red velvet curtain rose. Someone in the audience trembled.

And the show began.

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Sometime during the first fifteen minutes of the musical, Train fell in love with it.

Perhaps it was the sudden explosion of light that filled the stage shortly after the first monologue, or the eerie music that accompanied it.

Perhaps it was the dark, often terrifying aspects of the piece.

Perhaps it was the drama of who would get the girl (a concept Train had always hated in the past), who would die trying to gain the pretty soprano's favors.

Perhaps it was the contrast between the happy tunes and the gloomy operatic sequences.

Perhaps it was the dramatically flowing dresses and cloaks as they danced either serenely or madly across the stage to various melodies.

Perhaps it was the way death was portrayed with more importance than in reality.

Either way, Train found himself giving the troupe an standing ovation when it came time for the curtain call, cheering and clapping loudly along with the rest of the audience.

"We _have _to see this one again next year!" Train yelled at Creed over the roar of the applause.

"Seconded, Train!" Creed laughed and clapped ecstatically when the star players bowed with a flourish. "Happy eighteenth birthday!"

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"_Sing once a-gaaaain with meeeeee, our straaaaaange dueeeeet…_"

Train groaned and burrowed himself deeper into his bed, surprised that he could even hear Creed's (quite good) singing despite the five blankets he had piled upon himself.

"_My power over yoooooou, grows stronger yeeeeeet…"_

_Please, let him realize what time it is… _Train thought, cracking an eye open and blearily staring at the clock, which read exactly 6:07 AM.

It was early by his standards—_much _too early to wake up, even if Creed was singing in a fine baritone.

"_And though you turn from me, TO GLANCE BEHIIIIIIIND…"_

Train jumped out of bed and marched toward the bathroom, barely avoiding the walls and Grey Cat in his half-awake stupor. He double-checked to make sure he was actually wearing something—his grey boxers—before going any farther.

Finally he wrenched the door open and found Creed lying in the Jacuzzi, singing at the top of his lungs and clearly enjoying the newly discovered gadget in the operating manual—the bubble bath option…or at least what was left of the bubbles. Train had no idea how Creed had managed to find such a strange gizmo, or why a Jacuzzi even _needed _a bubble bath in the first place, but he supposed it was just another "aristocratic feature" as Creed called it.

"_THE PHAAAAAANTOM OF THE OPERA IS HEEEEEERE_…"

Train cleared his throat.

"_INSIDE YOUR…_Oh."

If Train hadn't known any better, he would have sworn Creed's face had gone slightly pink. Then Creed simply grinned, shrugged and continued singing as though nothing was wrong:

"_Those who have seen your face, draw back in fear…"_

"Creed, I was trying to sleep." Train's brain suddenly kicked into high gear. "And don't try any of that symbolism crap so early in the morning!"

Creed winked and hopped out of the Jacuzzi, toweling himself dry and pulling on his red silk pajamas. "_I am the mask you wear…"_

"All right, _enough!_"

Train enjoyed the silence that resulted from clamping his hand over Creed's mouth.

Creed's silver eyebrows rose with mocking astonishment, then settled into a predatory gaze. Train could feel his lips curl upwards.

Train loosened his hold on Creed's mouth and frowned. "What?"

"Do you have something else we can celebrate with, Mr. Birthday Boy?" Creed asked, his smile patronizing.

Train snorted. "I think you just created the worst pickup line in history."

Creed made a face. "Oh, come now, Train, I've heard worse than that. But in all seriousness…" Creed purred, stretching luxuriously. "What do you plan to do to make me stop singing? _Your spirit and my voice, in one combine…_"

Train shrugged. "My plan? Well…" He moved closer to Creed, feeling a wicked grin spread across his face. "It begins with doing something like…_THIS!"_

Without giving Creed even a second to react, he scooped him up and carried him back into his bedroom, while Creed let out an indignant yelp at the action.

"And then," Train said with a chuckle, dumping Creed unceremoniously onto the bed, "I'm going to do _this._"

Creed lay there sprawled out like a discarded toy, a small smirk on his face. His long fringe of hair fell across the pillow, still wet. He smelled like soap with a hint of blood that Train knew would never fully leave. His pale skin looked almost grey in comparison to the crimson color of his pajamas.

His blue eyes glittered with amusement. "And then?"

"This."

Train began to unbutton Creed's shirt with as much grace as he could muster, somehow still managing to hold Creed's interest. He pulled the flimsy shirt away and tossed it to the floor.

Creed frowned in mock-indignation. "If the shirt bothered you that much, Train, I would have taken it off long ago."

"Har-de-har-har," Train said sarcastically.

"Well, now what, O Great Number XIII?"

Train leaned over him, suddenly at a loss. _Well…I _did _have an idea…but what the hell was it? I knew I should've just tried to sleep…_

"Well…er…"

Creed smiled. "Ah, ah, ah! Rule number one, Train—_always _have a plan completely mapped out before confronting a foe." He wagged a condescending finger in Train's face, then flipped him onto the bed, reversing their positions.

"For example…I'd do _this._"

Train gasped at the action and jerked forward, his knees nudging Creed's chest. Creed chuckled and nipped his neck playfully. He felt his heartbeat quicken when Creed's fingers swirled across his chest in lazy circles like tiny dancers on a dance floor.

"And then I'd kiss you here"—Creed's kisses wandered over Train's chest—"and continue, like so."

Train's emotions began to surge together: embarrassment, slight amusement, and desire began to twist and melt into one another. His ears caught the sudden silence and held it. A feral sound escaped from somewhere deep in his throat.

Just as the final threshold (otherwise known as boxers) was about to be crossed…Train's cell phone rang.

"Whoops." Creed winked and grabbed the phone from the nightstand, answering it. "Hello, this is Train Heartnet's number. Creed Diskenth speaking."

Train thought the phone call would put a monkey wrench in Creed's plan. On the contrary, he continued, somehow managing to talk as though nothing was going on.

"Ah, a new Mission, finally! Thank you for the news. Now, what are the details?"

His free hand began idly crawling up Train's leg to his thigh, while Train wriggled uncomfortably. This, and the fact that _Creed_ had answered _Train's _phone, made Train more than a little peeved.

"Give me the phone," Train mouthed, grabbing Creed's hand that was tracing the edge of his boxers.

Creed shook his head and winked and replied to the unknown Eraser on the other end of the line: "That's quite the interesting plan. Having the cast 'get into character' by holding them hostage. Of course, I'm sure all of them are growing suspicious."

Creed manuevered his hand out of Train's grasp.

"_Give me the phone,_" Train whispered harshly, his face turning red at Creed's touch, feeling more embarrassed than he ever had.

"Hmm…yes, I would like directions. Thank you."

Creed cupped the receiver and grinned down at Train wolfishly as the usual "hold tone" played through the phone. "We have five minutes at least. Would Mr. Heartnet please remain lying down?"

Train glared at him. "Seriously, give it to me!"

Creed's grin widened. "The phone or…?"

"No!" Train felt his face burn as Creed laughed and made the most of the situation. "Just—hey! Don't ignore me, you b—_aaaaaaaah…_"

"_Um…would Mister Diskenth like the directions now?_"

Train snatched the phone from Creed's hand and growled the affirmative.

The next few minutes of instructions were, without a doubt, mortifying.


	26. Regina Part I

Gather ye rosebuds will ye may, my dear readers…

Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat.

**Chapter Twenty-Six: Regina Part I**

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"_Never _do that again, Creed," Train growled as their sleek black car rumbled down the highway toward their newest Mission.

Creed chuckled. "But why not, Train? It's hardly as if that Eraser was actually _watching _us. And besides, I know you were getting a little restless. I just decided to…_relieve the tension._"

He folded his hands comfortably on his lap and watched the trees and other cars flash by, glad that their privacy was secure. With the black wall in front of them, they were obscured from view and possible attack.

"I probably either gave the guy on the other end a heart attack or deafened him!" Train's face seemed to have permanently turned red after the directions had been imparted.

Creed grinned lazily. "Well, it certainly isn't _our _problem." He crossed his legs at the ankles, idly checking to make sure he didn't have lint on his black pants. One must always come to an audition clean and well rehearsed, after all.

He entertained himself with remembering the beautiful sounds of Train trying to hold his composure while talking on the phone. Creed had to admit that he did rather well until the middle, where the bed had begun to creak loudly in time to his irritated and demanding rhythm. Then, of course, he had to explain the background noise, passing it off as an action movie on TV, talking louder while Creed laughed softly and continued his torture.

And then…

Creed chuckled under his breath, unable to hide his smug reflection in the window. The empty glass by Train's nightstand had actually fallen off the table and rolled into a corner for the grandfinale.

"Besides, Train," Creed said jovially, feeling his jaw hurt from grinning so widely, "it's not as though enjoying my company is a horrendous thing, right?"

"Oh, shut up." Train's sullen tone inspired more chuckling on Creed's part.

"Anyway, you remember what the Mission is, I trust?"

"Yeah. Pretend to be wannabe actors, get a few bit parts, figure out who's the hostages and who's the targets, and do our job."

Creed sighed contentedly. "You know, Train, I've always wanted a Mission like this. I suppose you could say another faith I follow is the faith of the actor in a well-written theatrical production."

"I didn't know you had a religion to begin with."

Creed raised an eyebrow and glanced at Train. "Do _you _have one?"

"The Chronos Code, I guess. I learned it by heart with the other recruits."

"That's not a religion, Train. There's a difference." Creed was suddenly struck by a thought. "Do you know of the Partner's Code?"

"Isn't that the speech we did a few months ago?" Train turned back to look at Creed, his gold eyes holding a glimmer of curiosity.

Creed shook his head. "No, not quite. You see, it's—"

The car abruptly halted, and the chauffeur rolled down the tinted window in front of them. "We're here, sirs. Shall I take your things up to the hotel?"

"Yes, thank you." Creed's tone was pleasant as he got out of the car, Train beside him. "Please tell Number I that we arrived safely."

"Yes, sir."

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After Creed and Train had settled in to their suite—rooming as a pair of "brothers" hoping to strike it big in the industry—Creed outlined the finer points of auditioning for Train, who looked surprisingly nervous.

"First, don't slouch unless it's in character. Look like you know what you're doing. Speak clearly. And if you feel like things aren't going well, give them a smile and be polite."

Train nodded, his eyes wide. Creed patted his shoulder comfortingly.

"The judges are going to ask for your contacts, so simply give them this address and your cell phone number." Creed handed Train a slip of paper and sat back in the pastel-yellow plush sofa. "Still nervous?"

"No."

"Trust me, they aren't going to _eat you alive. _They might take your fingers as souvenirs if you stumble, but…" Creed laughed. "I'm _kidding_. Of course_._"

Train snorted. "You go first. I'll see you at the front desk at 10."

Creed snickered. "I'm sure you'll do fine, Train. After all, you _are _Black Cat."

"Whatever."

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The audition was easy enough for Creed—he was elevated from being part of a "group shot" as Bystander C to being the heroine's brief love interest.

_I had forgotten how much fun it is to play an "innocent", _Creed thought to himself with a grin as he meandered through the crowd of actors and actresses, uttering "Excuse me" and "Sorry about that" as he went.

After a few moments he found the gold star with a teal outline positioned above a plain wood door. Clearly it was the leading lady's dressing room.

Creed knocked on the door, surprised by the sharp "In a moment!" in response. Somehow he had imagined the woman to be softer in tone…

The door opened soon enough, revealing a very buxom woman perhaps three years his senior with hair that seemed to be the color of the ocean. It put Creed off guard—was it natural or dyed? Was it for her role or not? And if it wasn't…

"Hello, Miss Parass," Creed said, injecting a bit of youthful naivete into his voice. "I'm Creed Diskenth, and I'm going to be working with you for a little while. It's nice to meet you."

Echidna Parass—a rising star in the world of cinema—nodded coolly and smiled, lowering her lashes slightly to hide her eyes. "The pleasure is all mine."

Her voice was husky with a hint of determination—something that Creed began to realize would never fully disappear.

"This place seems awfully hectic," Creed commented, inclining his head toward the dull roar beyond. "Has it always been like this?"

Echidna chuckled deep in her throat, and Creed had to admit he liked the sound. "It's been that way ever since the new crew came along. They're very much into '24/7 acting'. We're in our roles constantly. It's a bit of a strain, actually. The good news is that my character is so similar to me I don't have to work that hard."

_Clearly you've never heard of multitasking, dear Echidna… _Creed thought, recalling his various roles on the world's stage. Killer, artist, lover, partner…

"Well, in the end, as long as the movie's a blockbuster, right?" he said innocently, standing with his hands clasped behind his back, eyes wide.

Echidna smiled. "For certain people, yes."

After a few more minutes of idle chatter, Creed headed back to the hotel, hoping that Train performed equally well, and had also gained some new information.

If Creed played his cards right, he would have a few additional details to work with. In fact, he was already developing a plan. It would need subterfuge, seduction, and Train's cooperation.

_After all, being an Eraser involves more than just mindless killing. It is, above all else, a clouding of the senses. _

_And Echidna Parass is going to be the perfect case in point. _


	27. A Notice

A Notice for you lovely readers:

This week's update of _Amantes sunt Amentes _will be a bit late, for various reasons: work beginning to pile up, a few mild crises, and most importantly the near-completion of my original novel.

I found the manuscript of my very first original creation (when my writing was actually _improving, _that is) a short while ago, and have begun editing/completing it. I found that—though the writing and plot are three years old—it still grabbed hold of me, especially in regard to the characters.

…Ah, my _villains. _There's a reason why I enjoy writing Creed's character—he seems almost designed with me in mind in many ways. Smooth, flirtatious, attractive, sociopathic—yes, that fits Creed and many of my villains to a "T".

I also have a question for you readers.

I noticed that the reviews and hits have lowered since Chapter 15. I was wondering why that was. Is everyone getting too busy? Has my audience become more "niched"? Or are you needing something more from this fic?

Your input is greatly appreciated, and makes the effort worthwhile.


	28. Regina Part II

I'm glad to see people reviewing and wanting me to continue! Thank you all very much! You have no idea how much of a _relief _that was for me on Monday—to find all those reviews in my inbox.

`Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat, only the letter and the code.

**Chapter 27: Regina Part II**

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"So, did you get in?" Train asked when Creed settled himself into bed and closed his eyes.

"Yes. You got in too, I trust?"

"Yeah. Just an extra." Train yawned and let his body sink deeper into the sofa—he wasn't in the mood to sleep with Creed, either with or beside him. "As long as the Mission gets done, right?"

"Mm-hmm." Creed's chuckle made Train's neck hairs stand up. "Oh, and Train…I met someone who I'd like to…well, I'd like to show you what being an Eraser is all about."

"Creed, I already _know _what being an Eraser's all about." Train frowned and stared at Creed. "Infiltrate, kill and leave. That's it."

This time, Creed laughed outright. "Oh, no, _no. _On the contrary, Train. To be an Eraser, you must be able to obtain information—even torture—any means necessary. That's your one flaw. You think that the only way to serve is with a gun or sword, and that your only connection to the victim is through the bullet that pierces them. But I'm going to show you the truth."

"The truth?" Train's hackles rose.

Creed rolled over onto his side to face Train, and Train shivered at the look on his face. It wasn't condescending, exactly, or calculating, or kind. It was indescribable, and Train felt his body grow cold.

"Goodnight, my Black Cat. Sweet dreams."

Train's dreams were anything but.

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"…Aaaand…_action!_"

"…Claudia, why won't you marry me?" Creed asked, a pained expression on his face. His tuxedo fluttered in the wind dramatically. "We're soul mates!"

"I'm sorry, Julian, but you simply aren't the one. I need more than just a pretty face." The green-haired woman replied, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

Train attempted to hide a yawn as the camera panned by him, wishing the director would just _cut _already. He was hungry and growing more claustrophobic by the second. He wanted Creed to stop whispering in the damn woman's ear. He wanted Creed to tell him the "secret truth" he had been going on about the night before.

_Okay, _Train told himself._ You can do this. You aren't an Eraser right now,_ _you're an extra in a drama. Do what Creed told you—what would a guy in your position think about?_

Train felt his face grow slightly warm. _Girls. Sex. Sports. Sex. Parties. Sex. Rebellion. Sex. _

None of the ideas were what Train wanted to think about at the moment. Instead he focused on the woman—Echidna Parass, if he remembered correctly.

In his opinion, she was too…_glamorous, _he supposed. Like she didn't belong among mortals on this soon-to-be-rainy April day. No, she was meant to be daintily eating caviar, going to elaborate parties. Oh, and meanwhile make a few thousand by shedding a single tear.

"Aaaaand…_cut!_"

Train heaved a sigh of relief and headed toward Creed, who brushed his hand against Echidna's as Train approached. Creed looked equally tired, but pleased in a way Train had never seen him before. He looked eager, innocent and untouched by the world.

It was so obviously an act that it made Train feel sick.

"Stop looking like that, Creed."

"Like what?" Creed asked, blinking in confusion for emphasis. "I always act like this, Train."

"Like _that,_" Train growled, feeling the cast and crew's eyes on them. "Like you're a typical young guy."

Creed grinned. "I think someone needs a little break. You won't be needed for the rest of today. Go ahead and rest at the hotel, and don't forget to check your mail."

Train thought of the little mailbox that was located next to the hotel suite door and nodded. "Fine. But we need to talk."

"Of course!" Creed's smile was angelic as he turned to leave.

Train made sure no one dogged his footsteps on his way to the hotel. He wasn't in the mood to play around.

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Train opened the mailbox when he returned to the suite, and found a letter addressed to him inside.

It was clearly Creed's handwriting. He tore open the envelope and slid the letter out, unfolding it carefully. In Creed's smooth, almost Gothic penmanship, it read:

_Separate the Capitals to start the revolution. Burn this. _

Train blinked. "What is this, a treasure hunt?" he grumbled to himself, flopping down on the bed and kicking off his shoes.

Dimly he could hear cars zooming by and the other actors chattering outside or in the halls. With a dismal sigh he began to read the letter, hoping to figure out what Creed was up to.

_My dear Train,_

_The stars are unreachable, though I tried last night to pick one for you._

_Hades is far more beautiful than the gates of heaven—unless they are as golden as your eyes._

_Even if the seasons change, and winter draws near, a rose will always be there to bloom for you._

_Forever is something I can't promise you—unless we make a new definition. Shall we?_

_If you're wondering about my relationship with Echidna, let me dissuade you. _

_Red and black looks best on you—velvet wrapped around your body on a silken bed._

_So as you read this letter, feel free to imagine this scenario:_

_The Dark Prince is restless. He sits in his private chambers, clothed in…nothing. _

_The large bed has been recently made by the servants and is ready for use._

_As the Prince collapses onto his bed, he stares up at the painting of the black cat and sighs. _

_Right on cue, the guards escort a youth into his chambers. His silver hair is wet from bathing._

"_God have mercy on your soul," a guard whispers to the youth, who scoffs. _

"_Even the priests don't REALLY believe in God," the youth retorts, staring around curiously. _

"_That is blasphemy!" the guard growls, but the Prince stops him with a look. _

_It seems the youth intrigues the Prince. "This boy stole a rose from my garden?"_

_Slowly, the guard nods, and the Prince sends him away. The guard obeys._

"_I'm surprised," the Prince drawls, leaning forward and inspecting the boy. "You're thin, boy."_

"_Not as much as some," the youth replies smoothly, resting his hands on his hips._

_The Prince crooks his finger in mock invitation. "Thin or not, by law you will be punished."_

_Helpless by the rules of the caste, the youth moves toward the bed. "I shall be punished, sir?"_

_Even the Prince smiles at the question and replies "By pleasure."_

Train felt his face burn as he continued reading, surprised at how arousing he found the words. Eventually he even had to go wash his hands, feeling strangely dirty…but in a better way than being covered with blood. He returned to finish reading the letter.

_By "separate the Capitals" he must mean write them down… _Train thought, grabbing a nearby notepad and jotting down the letters. "T…H…E…F…I…" he muttered, hearing the clock strike one outside.

All that could be heard was the sound of his pen scratching against the paper, and Train felt himself sink into the task effortlessly. After a bit of trouble with the "Prince" lines near the end, he finished copying them down.

"Pretty easy, Creed," Train muttered to himself, his lips curled into a grin.

_THEFIRSTTARGETISINTHEFIRSTFLOORSUITENUMBER23._

It only took Train a few seconds to space out the letters and read the message.

Train easily ripped the letter and the paper into quarters, then eighths, then twelfths and ground them under foot, where they were torn again. When he was satisfied no one would be able to read the remains, he placed Hades securely into the confines of his coat pocket and headed down to the first floor.

The sooner the job was done, the better.


	29. Regina Part III

Two bits of information before we begin:

First, I am very interested in your reviews. Especially if I cross the line from "dark-but-tolerable" into "so-cruel-I-vomited-while-reading".

Connecting to that, just as a bit of a warning—remember the warning from the very first chapter? The bit about "dark themes"? When I said dark themes, _I meant it. _

Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat, only The Man and Woman. Personally, I wish I didn't.

**Chapter 28: Regina Part III**

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"You've never been to a party like this before, have you?" Echidna asked with a smile, as Creed made a show of being impressed with the cocktail dresses, suits and abundance of champagne.

"Never," Creed said softly. "Are they always this big?"

"Sometimes. But after awhile they get rather dull." Echidna sighed and brushed invisible dust off her black low-cut dress. "You have to be on your guard, Creed. Some people take advantage of young people who have too much to drink."

"Okay." Creed nodded, somehow managing to maintain an innocent look even as old memories surfaced:

_The hotel room was dimly lit, and Creed's head swam from the drinks he had consumed. _

_The man had promised him a family, shelter, and a place in society. An opportunity he couldn't refuse—not that he would have refused even if he had been sober. The man had not told Creed what he had to do to _get _what was offered._

_Or that it involved another person._

"_Ooh, a new catch…" the woman had purred, her black cocktail dress fitting her curves perfectly. "Such pretty eyes, wouldn't you say dear?"_

"_He's mine, Fiona," the man growled._

_Creed nearly gagged at the smell of cigars that assailed his senses._

"_Sir, I don't understand," Creed had said shakily. "What are you going to…"_

Creed shook his head, banishing the memories quickly. It had been two years since his first brush with the dark side of adulthood, and he did not want to remember the experience. After a few seconds he resumed his charade of innocence and decided to mingle. He hoped that Train was doing well—and was managing to do his job, _and _act as well.

_Of course he is, _Creed thought with a smile. _He's Black Cat—my partner. Together we'll get the job done._

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_Really, Echidna, _Creed thought smugly an hour later. _You're making this too easy!_

Echidna was slightly tipsy, holding onto Creed's arm tightly as he lead her to her suite. She gave him her key without a second thought.

Creed didn't bother to memorize the details of the place—only her bed, which Echidna collapsed onto with a soft laugh. Her hair became a curtain of surreal green, obscuring her pale face from view.

"Thank you for…bringing me up, Creed," Echidna slurred, her red lipstick-smeared lips curling upwards. "You're a good boy."

Creed turned away, pretending to blush. "Oh, it's no trouble, Miss Parass."

Echidna's drunken laugh grated on his ears. "So innocent." He heard her get shakily to her feet, and walk over to him. "Why can't more men be like you?"

"M-Miss Parass, what're you—" Creed stammered as her too-soft hand cupped his cheek. Inwardly he was almost dancing with joy at his good luck. "We shouldn't—"

"Don't…want to know what it's like?" Echidna's words were becoming less formal by the second. "…Making love to a beautiful woman?"

Creed blocked the memories that threatened to resurface again and managed to continue his "nervous" charade. "I suppose so. But, Miss Parass, you're so sophisticated. How can I possibly—"

"Creed, you don't need to do…anything. Just let me do this."

Creed forced himself not to shudder as she kissed him and began to unbutton his shirt. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, unable to stop the memory that emerged despite his efforts to control them:

"_Such a sweet little thing…" The Woman—The Man's mistress, Creed had assumed—said with a smile as she kissed his neck, unbuttoning his ratty shirt and discarding it without a thought. "Do you think he'll reach the top before we do, dear?"_

_Creed had never felt so humiliated and used in his life. He could do nothing to stop them, and if he didn't cooperate with them the whole ordeal would be prolonged. He could hardly breathe—they were too close—_

Creed grit his teeth when Echidna began to loosen his belt.

_No. No, I can't think about that. Not now, I have a job to do!_

"What's wrong?" Echidna asked slowly, her eyes wide. "Am I hurting you?"

"No—no, Miss Parass," Creed said with a small smile. "Just…can we do this on the bed?"

"Yes, of course."

Creed's mind whirled when he found himself lying sprawled on the bed. Echidna had somehow managed to wriggle out of her dress. She kissed him with careless passion, and Creed continued to play his role of the "innocent youth". He let out a soft cry when she trailed kisses down his body clumsily. He made his breath ragged and forced.

Inside, however, he felt sick as he continued to relive the event that had changed him beyond repair…

_Creed couldn't think straight. He lay immobile on the carpeted floor, pain and the remains of pleasure he hadn't wanted his only companions. The Man and Woman were gone—for the moment. He supposed he was meant to wait for their return, and then…_

_Creed had sat up with difficulty and surveyed the damage. His skin was mottled with red marks and sweat._

_He had shuddered and nearly vomited. He was trembling. He tried to get up, but he toppled to the floor instead. His entire being ached with humiliation and anger. How could he have been so _stupid_? How could he have let some creep and his woman do this to him for promises he knew they would never keep?_

"_I might as well offer myself back to them again," Creed said with a bitter chuckle. _

_And then he had an idea. A horrible, wonderful idea._

_As if right on cue, The Woman re-entered the room, looking quite smug as she gazed down at him. Creed stared up at her, letting out a small mewl of submission. _

"_Miss," he asked pathetically, rolling onto his back and giving her a soulful look. "Would you please me again?"_

"_Certainly." The Woman smiled and knelt down beside him, clearly more than willing. "You'll make a fine pet."_

_Creed got on his knees and leaned stiffly forward to kiss her, letting her take the lead once again. He moved gingerly, his body aching from what they had put him through. He wanted her to see how much pain she and her lover had caused him. He rested his hands on her shoulders, positioning himself as comfortably as possible. _

_His fingers tapped lightly against her neck. He gave her his most submissive smile._

_And started to squeeze…_

The sound of gasping alerted Creed to the present.

Echidna was clearly in the throes of pleasure—whatever Creed had been doing had been undoubtedly _good_. Her eyes were closed, her body was _writhing_ on his, and Creed remembered exactly _why _he hated bedding anyone but Train.

Still, he had to keep up appearances, and Creed made sure his every action was hesitant yet needy.

_Now then, time to think of something much more interesting, _Creed thought with a small smile.

_Train lying naked and spread-eagled on a bed with velvet sheets, the smell of gunpowder and blood in the air._

Creed felt his pulse quicken and made his movements grow more erratic.He smiled as Echidna cried out and collapsed against him. Gently he rubbed her back, noting idly that she was crying softly. She was too weak for his taste.

"Miss Parass, are you alright?" he whispered.

"…Yes, Creed, I'm fine." Echidna replied haltingly, her tears falling annoyingly on his arm.

"Good."

He tried to appear casual as he wiped the tears from his skin.


	30. Regina Part IV

Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat.

**Chapter 29: Regina Part IV**

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Train didn't even need to ask Creed what he had done that evening. He could smell that actress' perfume from a mile away.

Train wrinkled his nose in disgust. Creed _reeked _of Echidna's scent. His hair was ever-so-slightly rumpled—a look Train had come to recognize as _Thank you, Train, you gave me the highest pleasure_—and his white-collar shirt was missing two buttons.

Worst of all, though, was the look in Creed's eyes—a look that didn't say enough.

"Creed," Train said calmly, attempting to keep his tone level, "did you sleep with Echidna?"

Creed's lips curled. "You and I both know the answer to that question, Train. Yes, I slept with the Queen of the Camera and came back none-the-richer. So?"

"_So?_ What am I, a—"

"Train Heartnet—or shall I say _Black Cat_—in this Mission, you are my _partner. _Remember, _I _am the one who creates the plan, and _you _are the one who follows it. How I get my information—or trust—is of no business of yours." Creed's voice was growing flinty.

"Who made _you _the boss? _Look at yourself. _You're acting like what _we_ are is nothing_._" Train broke into bitter laughter. "Why'd you even write that damned letter anyway? For that _thing_ between your legs? Or was it 'all for the Mission'?"

Creed raised an eyebrow, the motion eerily slow. "Well. I didn't think you would take this so seriously, Black Cat. I'm…intrigued."

Train growled, turning on his heel. "If you're going to waste time"—he used a particularly coarse word for emphasis—"with random, useless _girls, _then I'm gonna do things my way."

With that, he stormed out the door, running through what information the first Target had given him.

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Train's whole body seemed on fire as he loaded bullets into Hades without pause.

_Focustriggerfirefocustriggerfirefocustriggerfire—_

The hopeless, oily men cried out for mercy, but Train wasn't in the mood. He didn't care _who _heard him—he only wanted the Mission over and done with.

Over and over again he fired, pausing when he had time to wipe the spatter off his face with his sleeve. He didn't bother about the rest—he could buy new clothes, take a bath, maybe even drink some warm milk. But that would be later.

Eventually the men weren't even recognizable as such (_too many holes, too much blood_), and the walls around Train were covered with the remains of his Targets.

Soft footsteps made their way toward him. Train loaded Hades again, whipped around—

"I _would _say you were magnificent, Train, if not for the fact that you just made a _very _big mistake," Creed remarked idly, Kotetsu unsheathed.

Train laughed again, feeling his head pound. "Look, Creed. We're _done!_" he bellowed. "We can go _home!_"

Creed shook his head. "Sepheria's coming to pick us up, Train," he replied, looking dismal.

"…And?"

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Train awoke to a pounding headache.

"Heartnet, I am disappointed in you," Sepheria's feminine-yet-commanding voice echoed throughout the room, making Train wince. "And in you too, Creed Diskenth."

As he awakened Train realized that he had been blindfolded, and the only thing he could feel were the chains handcuffed so brutally to him and the chill air on his body.

_No. Nonono. They aren't going to—_

"As the leader of the partnership, Creed Diskenth, you are to be punished first."

"Oh, really? How very generous of you." It was difficult to tell whether Creed—who was apparently right next to him—was being sarcastic or actually looking _forward _to the torture Train knew was coming.

"Twenty lashes—for the twenty minutes you _could _have used to keep Heartnet in line. Begin."

Train winced as the first _thwack _was heard. He heard a sharp intake of breath from beside him, and suddenly a _roar._

He instantly attempted to bolt, thrashing wildly before someone tightened the handcuffs as he realized that their punishment was _public. _

_Thwack. _The second strike. Another gasp of pain.

Train clenched his teeth at the voices that called out mockingly from afar:

"Look at the way he's squirming!"

"Watch his legs—they jump whenever the whip hits!"

Thwack. Gasp.

Eventually the lashes stopped—but then it was Train's turn.

"Heartnet, you will receive twenty-five lashes. To kill Targets in that amount of time—and the five extra—impressive. But foolish."

"Begin."

_Thwack._

Train didn't have the reserve Creed had—he _screamed _in absolute agony as soon as the whip hit his exposed skin. It was more than just a whip—it had _barbs. _Every lash was punctuated by a forceful rip of his skin, peeling off thin but painful layers as it seemed to go on and on.

The crowd roared with approval, and Train felt his stomach clench.

Train felt as though his back had been doused with acid, then set afire. He roared like a wild thing when the lash descended, then the next, and the next…

"—Wait!"

Train felt the whip tickle his back without force, and shivered.

"You have no authority to stop this, Diskenth." Sepheria's tone was harsh.

"I know. But wouldn't it be easier if _I _took care of the punishment? After all, it is a _partnership. _Black Cat must pay _me _back, not Chronos. A good cat must be housebroken, no matter how good he is at catching mice."

Creed's smooth, confident voice made Train's heart slowly fill with hope. Perhaps if _Creed_ made the punishment—

"…No. You can 'gentle' him later. For now it is our turn."

Train froze.

"Proceed."

Train's hopes plummeted.


	31. Inservio Part I

A note to readers: if I didn't give you enough warning, I will again.

There is a _reason _that Train is on such…_terms _with Creed in the anime (aside from the Saya Catastrophe). Again, if I'm getting too gruesome, please feel free to tell me in your reviews. I don't want to make people throw up.

Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat. However, I do own The Partners Code (which shall appear shortly).

**Chapter Thirty: Inservio Part I**

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Train winced as the cold salve was rubbed into his wounded back.

Even though he had been partially redressed in a pair of black pants, he somehow still felt exposed to an unseen mass. He supposed that this was what religious people felt when they stood in the confessional, heads bowed and bodies trembling in fear of Divine Wrath.

"Is Black Cat satisfied with himself?" Creed asked from behind him, his long fingers caressing the

wounds with mocking gentleness. "Are you sorry?"

"I'm not going to apologize for my decision, it was my choice to make," Train growled, clenching his fists for emphasis.

Creed chuckled. "My, my, Black Cat, you _are _stubborn. And here I thought the whipping would be enough to break you in."

Train snorted. "'Spanking' only works for a little while. You're living proof of _that._"

"Believe me, Black Cat, seeing you disappointed in me is far worse than being whipped."

Train snorted. "If you're trying to apologize, don't. I won't forgive you until I'm sure I can trust you again."

Creed chuckled. "My, my. We _are _bossy today."

"Bite me."

"_Oooh, _I'm shaking in my _slippers. _How oh-so-_frightening._"

"Shut up, you cheater."

"…Hm. Well, since Chronos' whipping clearly didn't do anything to you…" Creed replied idly, completely ignoring Train's previous words. His fingers buttoned Train's black nightshirt with easy quickness. "…I'll have to think up a different sort of punishment."

Train was suddenly face-to-face with Creed. Creed's expression was condescending to the extreme. It made his blood boil just looking at that subtle curl of Creed's lips.

Creed cocked his head to one side, wiping his hands with a blue washcloth. His white pajamas seemed almost grey in the dim room. His silver hair was wet—he had recently bathed—and Train could see the bruise on his legs where the whip had lashed him. In a flash the bruise was covered by a pair of simple black pants.

"Choices, choices," Creed said softly, trailing his fingers across Train's cheek. "There are so many things I could have you do, Train. I could simply take Hades from you and put it in Sepheria's care. I could make you kneel on a pile of uncooked rice. I could even have you—"

"Why should I let _you _do _anything _to me? You're nothing but a plaything for everyone's entertainment! You're nothing but a hooker!"

Creed stared at him, silent. Train stared back.

The two sat like that, Creed's brows slowly expressing a darkening anger. Train shivered at the way Creed's hands clenched into fists, tight enough that he could see the veins of his hand stand out.

Suddenly, Creed smiled.

It was a wicked, cunning smile that held no hint of remorse. It was a smile that Train would see a lot of over the next few weeks.

"A 'hooker'?" Creed asked softly, his fists slowly unclenching. "Is _that _what you think of me?"

Train glowered at him. "What else can I call you?"

Creed shrugged. "Well, Black Cat, I'm not sure. 'Partner'? 'Lover'?" His sarcasm was evident.

"I'll call you whatever I like."

Creed continued to smile. "You know, Black Cat, for someone who was only just punished in public a few short hours ago, you're quite fiesty. I must say I'm impressed."

Creed stood up and walked over to the sofa, settling into it with a sort of finality. His smile grew wider as he gestured toward him. "Well, Black Cat, I've decided on your punishment."

"What, let you sleep with me again?" Train asked sarcastically. "I don't think so."

"Well…here's the idea: perhaps you can regain my 'friendship' if you can show me what Echdina couldn't."

Train snorted. "I'd just be proving my point."

"Perhaps."

Train stood up and walked to Creed, hands in his pockets. "Well?"

Creed raised an eyebrow. "Follow my instructions to the letter—the way I do for you."

"Remind me again why I should even _sneeze _for you."

"Remember on our first Mission together? 'I'll be your everything, Train…if you'll do the same for me'? You could say I've spoiled you in the past. I even let you take care of your emotional crisis _your _way. In fact, if Sepheria had known she would have dragged you back and locked you away for analysis. I've been the best partner I could for you, Train. It's time for you to pay up."

Train stared at him silently for a moment, taking in the information. He turned away to stare out the window, watching the moon disappear into a blanket of clouds.

_He's right. He _has _been a good partner…better than most…_

Train thought of the time when he went off on his own to think things over. Creed had just let him go—no pleas, threats or anger—he had just let him do his own thing, and had waited.

One of the few things Train remembered being taught was that he should _always _repay his debts, whether they are emotional or material.

It would have been thoughtless of him to forget even _that _simple rule.

Train turned back around. "Creed, thank you for helping me, and generally taking care of me. That was what I think a good partner should do. _But_"—he stuffed his hands back into his pockets—"I'm not going to repay my debt to you through sex. That'd make me the same thing I called you: a hooker."

Creed sat in his chair, motionless and silent. Train didn't back down. His toes curled into the carpet, bracing himself for whatever would happen next.

After a long period of silence, Creed finally spoke.

"Train, they wanted _me _to punish you. If I don't, they'll whip you again—or worse." Creed's eyes were wide, and Train was struck by how innocent he looked. "You don't know what they can do to you. What they _will _do, if I don't teach you."

"I don't want to learn anything from you! Not like this!" Train's lips curled back in a feral snarl.

"Train, this is the only way I _know!_" Creed's expression mirrored Train's. "I don't _know _of any other way!"

"Then research! Look it up, ask around, do anything you want, but I can tell you that _this isn't right!_"

Creed suddenly seemed to deflate. He collapsed back onto the sofa and stared at Train as though he was a man attempting to ask directions in a language he didn't speak. He looked forlorn, tired, and all-too-similar to a wolf that had been chastised by his alpha.

"Train?" he asked softly, leaning forward. "Is it because of Echidna?"

"No. It's because of your thinking that sex solves everything. That can't be right, and I think you know it." Train wished Creed would stop staring at him like that. It made him feel sick.

"I know it doesn't, but I thought…wasn't that what you wanted?"

"Creed—" Train sighed and rubbed his temples. "Look, just…let's not talk about this now. I'm tired, you're tired…"

Creed gave a forlorn sigh and stood up. "All right, Train, but tomorrow Sepheria's going to want to see you growing more 'house-trained' by the day. I told her I'd make you a perfect Chronos Number by the time summer is over."

"And if you don't…?" Train asked, feeling his spine tingle.

"…Then the two of us will be in Nizer's care." Creed's fingers twitched, as if he remembered something painful.

"Number V?" Train raised an eyebrow. "I've only seen him once. I'm assuming you know him."

Creed chuckled bitterly. "Let's just say he liked seeing the blood rush to my head when he helped me discover I was claustrophobic."

"You…? Oh. So…what'll we do?"

Creed smirked. "Trusting me so quickly, Black Cat?"


	32. Inservio Part II

…I seem to have a fetish for men in…well, you'll see. I should really make a list of how many times this outfit has come up in my work, original or otherwise.

Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat, but I do own this plot, Train's attire, the Partner's Code, etc.

**Chapter Thirty-One: Inservio Part II**

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"…Creed?"

"Yes, Black Cat?"

"Can you take these…_things _off me?"

"Of course not." Creed smiled and tugged on the objects, making sure they were in place. "What, you thought I was kidding?"

"…Well, sort of. How many cold-blooded Erasers do you know who actually _have _these things in their closet?" Train fidgeted uncomfortably. "And how did you even get them in my size?"

"Pure luck." Creed chuckled as Train attempted to tug the top article of clothing lower, attempting to hide an even _more _humiliating item. "Now Black Cat—or shall I say _Kitty_—I want Sepheria to see your lovely new attire!"

"Look, damn it, I know you and I agreed to doing _some _form of punishment when Sepheria gets here, but this is_ insane_!" Train yelped, attempting to pull down the skirt that just seemed to want to show off his (catlike?) hips. "How do girls even _wear _these? They could blow up in a strong wind or something!"

Creed shrugged. In some ways he was quite pleased with the way things turned out. He still didn't quite understand what Train _meant _by the "proper way to repay a debt", but he figured Train would show him soon enough.

And besides, he would get to see _this._

Train was standing very uncomfortably in a girl's boarding school uniform: a blue tartan skirt, a white blouse (the top button was loose), a pair of long white stockings and Mary Janes that Creed was sure would have to be replaced soon enough, the way Train was scuffing them against the rug.

Creed looked him over yet again, feeling smug with the entire situation. It was still rather painful, thinking that he and Train were—at the moment, at least—on completely different wavelengths. Still, Creed knewthey would reach an understanding.

Though he doubted that the blue tartan sliding against Train's legs was going to help much. Nor the way his cheeks continuously invented new shades of red, or the way he slouched and glowered and generally looked thoroughly, and truly, _humiliated. _

"Stop staring," Train growled as he collapsed onto the couch. The skirt rose up for the briefest of moments, showing off a highly _masculine _pair of black briefs.

Worse was the fact that said briefs made it quite clear why Creed hadn't let Train take control in bed in the past. Clearly puberty was enjoying its artistic expression in regards to Train.

A fact which was made painfully obvious when Creed noticed (not for the first time) that Train was a walking paragon of paradoxes in the physical sense as well as psychological: he had a face made for blunt expression but slender hips, and long fingers that had the potential to be artistic (just like Creed) though they were used with a rough carelessness.

Train glowered at Creed and placed his fisted hands on his lap, knees pressed firmly together. The skirt grew rumpled, making it look as though Train had been hit in a place no schoolgirl would normally find pain in.

It was that image which sent Creed over the edge.

Creed had to lean on the sofa for support, laughing so hard that his lungs burned. It was all too much, too utterly _wicked. _Train's expression didn't help, either—his face was redder than Creed had ever seen it.

Train growled as Creed shakily got up again and adjusted his blue bathrobe. It had partly fallen off his shoulders.

The contrast between their clothes was painfully (humorously?) obvious, and Train noticed this quite distinctly—and began voicing his complaints loudly.

Creed couldn't exactly blame him—he had been forced more than once into women's clothing while undercover during a Mission (and he _loathed _boarding schools as a result).

_Perhaps I should think of something else… _he mused, as Train griped and fumed in a most un-feminine manner. _After all, he probably doesn't trust me any less than he did…_

"Do you have any other ideas, Kitty?" Creed asked with a smirk as Train gave him a look that, while clearly _intending _to intimidate, only made him look more endearing.

"Funny you should ask. How about I take these things off, put on something else—_anything _else—and how about you creating some other punishment?"

"It's not as bad you think. Sepheria will only be inspecting you here—you won't have to go outside like this."

Train sighed with relief. "Thanks."

"…I thought you had another idea?" Creed asked slyly, eyebrows raised.

There was that crimson tinge again. "I—you—but—it's—oh, _shut up._"

Creed burst into laughter again, knowing that he _really _shouldn't have been enjoying it as much as he was.

He hadn'tprepared himself for Train's fist connecting to his face.

"Ouch!" he touched his cheek gingerly, staring up at Train from his position on the floor. "That _hurt, _Train…but I suppose I deserve it."

"No kidding," Train scoffed.

"…Oh, and Train?"

"What?"

"Sepheria's probably coming here soon, so could you please kneel?"

"And do _what_?"

"Just kneel. Bow your head, too—that always worked whenever she visited when I was younger."

Train did as instructed as Creed stood up. "You had to do this too?" he asked.

"Yes—only my hands were tied behind my back, I was wearing pants, and I had to 'walk' on my knees. In other words, I'm being merciful, Kitty."

Creed was pleased when Train fell silent, clearly contemplating his words. He occupied the sofa Train had sat in earlier and waited, while Train turned to him questioningly.

"Do I just stay here?"

"When someone knocks at the door, you have to go answer it…on your hands and knees." Creed sighed at Train's expression. "It's how all Erasers are 'housebroken'. The Elders thought you wouldn't need the 'gentling', but you proved them wrong. And now they want _results._"

"…Do you plan on actually doing it?" Train asked, his body tense under his innocent attire.

_I wish I knew the answer, Train, _Creed thought bitterly to himself, before replying crisply "It's all up to Sepheria. She might give me specific orders—and like any housetrained pet I must follow them to the letter."

"You don't like that, do you." It wasn't a question—it didn't have to be.

"Someday, Train," Creed said, closing his eyes, "I plan to show the world what Chronos really is: a controlling, tyrannical society run by rotting piles of flesh. Someday, I'll bring the world to a bright new future."

"That's too many 'somedays'." Train smiled thinly. "Try in…oh, say, five years. Maybe by then the Elders will be senile and Sepheria will finally let her hair down."

"And we'll be able to do what we want." Creed grinned in return and kicked off his slippers, listening for the sound of knocking—Sepheria had a strange habit of arriving exactly three minutes before the intended meeting.

_Ding-dong, _chimed the doorbell sweetly.

_Right on time, _Creed thought with a sigh. "All right, Train, put on your best submissive face."

"How do I do _that_?" Train asked, looking nervous.

"Just keep your eyes lowered, crawl on your hands and knees, and call her 'Miss'. And whatever you do, _don't _get riled up."

Train nodded and crawled off, muttering curses under his breath. Creed waited silently for Sepheria to arrive. He could hear Train talking softly to Sepheria as they walked toward the room.

_Maybe I should meet them halfway…_

Creed stood up and walked down the hallway where Sepheria and Train were also heading through. He was pleased that Train was not looking Sepheria in the eye—though his shoulders were hunched, and it was obvious that he was not quite as punished as Sepheria would want him to be.

"Ah, Sepheria," Creed called, averting his gaze from the ever-swaying blue skirt in an attempt to keep his face straight. "I'm honored to have you here with us today. Is this…?" He gestured to Train, whose face was now more ashen than flushed.

"Your teacher taught you well," Sepheria said solemnly, no humor in her voice or expression. "This was one of the things that brought _you _to your knees, correct?"

"Among other things," Creed replied coolly, inwardly squashing the endless mantra of _Go to hell, you glacier_, _I hope you melt down there._

"What works on one won't work on the other, Creed. I hope you realize this."

"Of course."

Train shifted uncomfortably, his fingers beginning to dig into the carpet.

"This won't work. You'll have to think of something else."

"Do you have any ideas, _Sepheria_?" Creed let a hint of mockery seep into his respectful tone.

"Yes, in fact. You wanted to teach him the Code, correct?"

Creed nodded.

"Then teach him—the way you were taught, of course. The Elders are pleased with how you've grown."

Creed looked down at Train, who was still kneeling. "…I can't, Sepheria. That would be too cruel."

"The Elders didn't let you have Heartnet out of kindness, Creed. You know that as well as I."

"But S—"

"No more arguing. I'll just let Nizer have him instead. And I'll handle you myself."

Creed stared at Sepheria, at a complete loss of what to say. Train's body was completely tense, and he no longer looked humorous. He looked unsure, wary—something Creed didn't want him to feel at that particular moment.

"Miss Sepheria," Train began, his voice subdued, "please…let Creed teach me. No matter what it is, I give you my word that I'll listen to him. You've hurt him enough. Please."

Creed shuddered at the sight of Train begging. It was chilling, watching such a strong, powerful young man bowing to the whims of some rotting organization.

And he was doing it for _him. _

_So this is what the word 'partner' means to Train, _Creed thought, smiling slightly. _That isn't a bad idea, actually…and it's exactly what Chronos wants. _

Sepheria stared down at Train silently, clearly pondering the situation. Creed stood still, hoping that she would listen to Train. The clock on the wall seemed to mock them, ticking away with as much efficiency as a Number on the battlefield.

"I want to see your first lesson for myself. Now."


	33. Inservio Part III

Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat, only The Partner's Code

**Chapter Thirty-Two: Inservio Part III**

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Train didn't look up from his position on the floor, his eyes stinging.

Creed sat in his sofa, one leg crossed over the other, wriggling his toes underneath Train's chin and forcing him to lift his head up. Sepheria sat watching them in the chair opposite—Train could feel her staring.

"The Partner's Code—The Code—is a set of rules designed for partners in Chronos," Creed explained calmly. "Both partners are expected to follow the rules on each and every Mission—and domestically as well, if necessary. When I joined Chronos—a few months after I turned fifteen—I was also subjected to this. I learned enough that Sepheria here trusts me to teach _you_ The Code as well, Black Cat."

Train looked up into Creed's face. It was as though Creed had put on a mask through which only his mouth was visible. He looked eerily serene, his lips curled softly into a patronizing smile.

"And even though I wish this whole affair hadn't come up, I must do as she commands…and as I have learned." Creed rested his hand on Train's head, tapping his fingers against his skull.

"You may begin any time," Sepheria said softly. Train could feel her gaze burning into him.

Creed chuckled. "We're going to start out small, Black Cat."

Train frowned and waited for the command.

"Go to my room and search through the top drawer—the one next to the window. There should be a small white box with a black ribbon and a gold star in there. Take it out and bring it back to me. I want you back here in ten minutes exactly. Do whatever you must to get the box—but I want you to go on all fours. You will crawl on your way there and back. Understood?"

Train nodded and crawled off on his assignment, feeling his face burn and his temples pound.

_Maybe I should make them wait, _he thought, grinning bitterly. _It'd teach them both a lesson! _

He took his time. When he finally reached the top of the stairs, he turned and continued his trek to Creed's room. He fumed at the way the damn skirt brushed against his hips, soft and too…not _him. _

_I'll ask him about taking this thing off later. Right now I've got to focus on what Creed told me…if I can remember it all. Let's see…go to his room, look at the drawer—the top one, yeah. Look for a box. A white one with a black ribbon._

Train winced as the rug underneath him scratched at his knees, but continued on his way.

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Train barely gave Creed's room a thorough glance as he moved toward the drawers, staring at the way the sunlight rippled softly across the rich mahogany.

The designs the sunlight illuminated on that piece of furniture were delicate and beautiful, shaped into the likenesses of roses and stars and clearly made by an artist. Train could see the points where the craftsman had added little flourishes here and there on the rose petals—the designs were slightly jagged.

_I'm not here to gawk, _Train reminded himself. _I'm here for the box. _

He decided to stand up—he couldn't reach the top drawer on his own—and opened the drawer with ease. Clearly the drawers were of excellent craftsmanship as well…

And he felt his confidence collapse in on itself.

The drawer was _filled _with white boxes with black ribbons wrapped around them—and each of them had distinct, delicate gold markings on them in various designs. They were almost identical save for the markings—they carried the same weight, the same slick feel, the same silk ribbon. There was only one way to tell them apart.

And Train couldn't remember which marking he wanted.

He fumbled through the boxes, trying to get his brain to cooperate. It shouldn't have been that _hard. _It was a simple, stupid _symbol, _what difference did it make? They were probably all the same anyway—Creed wouldn't care one way or the other.

Train began to grow worried. He had a feeling he had taken too long—what would happen if he messed up? Would they hurt him? Lock him away? Or—

Finally Train grabbed a random box and bolted from the room, stuffing it into his ridiculous white blouse and moving down the stairs as quickly as he could. He felt his heart pounding as he mind went through worst-case scenarios repeatedly.

_Let me be right, _Train hoped fervently, nearly banging into a wall in his hurry.

Train, still on his knees, scurried into the room—he felt his face burn at the indignity of the action—and retrieved the box. He sat back on his knees, out of breath.

Creed picked up the box and looked it over carefully. At first, his eyes were shining with hope. He checked every aspect he possibly could of the tiny box.

Train shuddered at the way Creed's hands traced the gold marking, the way his eyes went from hope to disappointment.

"Oh, Train," Creed said forlornly, his hand over his face, his fingers burrowing into his silver hair. "Oh, _Train. _I thought I had given you thorough instructions."

"You—"

"First, Train, you must always ask: 'What did I do wrong, Creed?'"

Train took a deep breath—trying to control his irritation—and managed to say "What did I do wrong?"

Creed's fingers curled subtly.

"…_Creed._"

"It took you sixteen minutes to get to your destination, get the box, and come back here. _Then _you brought the wrong box. It was a _star_, Train, not a _circle._" Creed lifted his hand from his face, and Train shuddered at the disappointed look in his eyes.

"You said it was going to be _small, _damn it! You didn't _say _there'd be _more _than one of those stupid boxes in there!" Train snarled, completely forgetting about Sepheria.

"It was a test, _Kitty, _and I'm not about to hold your hand for you when it comes to that." Creed opened the box with deliberate slowness, eyebrows raised. "Let's see what you've brought on yourself, hmm?"

Train stared at the black strap of unidentifiable material. "What's that?"

"You'll see," Creed said softly. "Turn your back to me, Train, and give me your dominant hand."

Train turned around and held out both of his hands.

Creed chuckled and grabbed Train's left. "Don't tempt me, Train. I want to at _least_ give you a fair chance."

Before Train could blink, he found that the black strap—_Silk, _he decided—was wrapped around his arm and wound across his waist, tied into an ironic Lover's Knot at Train's wrist.

Creed slowly let go of him, and Train nearly fell over with his loss of equilibrium. He struggled, using his free arm to sit up. He glared at Creed.

"It's your fault for not completing his instructions, Heartnet," Sepheria said coolly from behind him, making him jump. He had forgotten her.

"Now, we're going to try this again. Remember: it's a gold star, Black Cat."

Train tactfully ignored Creed's subtle remark and tried to ignore Sepheria as well as struggled back toward the door. "What's the time limit?" he ground out, nearly slamming his chin into the floor when he miss-stepped with his one free arm.

"Ten minutes." Creed answered, his tone smug.


	34. Epistula

Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat, but I do own the assembled written words.

**Chapter Thirty-Three: Epistula**

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_The Partner's Code is what binds those in Chronos together._

_Race is not important when you are partners. Gender is not important when you are partners. The matters of sexual orientation are of little consequence between partners. You are Together: a single unit designed by Chronos for the good of mankind. _

_Alone, you are helpless, lost in your own flaws. United, you can overcome even the most daunting challenges. –_The Partner's Code, Introduction.

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_Dear Aunt,_

_I'm glad to hear from you again! I've sent you some money from my last bounty—he was a little tough, but I'm fine. I really lucked out this week—or maybe it's bad to think like that. After all, that means that there's more crime happening these days. But there are even more Sweepers around than ever, so I guess that is not the problem. _

_I'm going back to Braccio City, where I met Mr. D—but only for a little while, you see. I don't think he'll want to talk to me, anyway. He's probably too busy planting roses._

_Hope to see you soon!_

_Love,_

_Saya_

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_Golden yellow sun,_

_Blindingly beautiful,_

_You cannot compare to Him. –_"Haiku to The Golden Eyed Boy" by C. Diskenth.

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_Creed,_

_Why haven't you contacted me? You said you would as soon as you were safe. I found a nice massage parlor we could visit together, if at all possible._

_Echidna_

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_Paradise is:_

_Roses in bloom_

_Their scarlet petals embracing the world_

_Velvet soft, as soft as your skin_

_As it touches mine_

_Gently_

_Uncertainly_

_At the stroke of midnight. –_"Paradise" by C. Diskenth.

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_Mr. Diskenth,_

_The poem you sent us about Paradise was fascinating. Have you ever read any of Chaucer's work? I'm sure you'd find him of notable interest. You seem to have been influenced by the classic playwrights—I found your description of roses in full bloom to be particularly stunning. _

_Perhaps we could have tea some time in the future? My address is enclosed. _

_Best regards,_

_Charden Flamburg of the New Age Fine Arts Society_

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_Creed,_

_Please, I'm starting to worry. I wrote my phone number down, too, just in case. You have it with you—don't you? You promised me you'd write it down!_

_Echidna_

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_Mr. Diskenth,_

_Your new prescription has arrived. You know the rules—don't overdose, and ONLY take two per day. _

_Your Humble Doctor. _

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_My golden-eyed one_

_Stands before me_

_Humbled yet still proud,_

_Silent but speaking with a thousand words_

_I wish I could answer you_

_But the vines are embracing us so tightly_

_I can only say_

_So_

_Much. _

"37 Words" by C. Diskenth.


	35. Inservio Part IV

This may be the last chapter for a week or two, since I just won't have time to update.

Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat, only this plot.

**Chapter Thirty-Four: Inservio Part IV**

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Creed watched as Train tossed his clothes into the washer and headed back up the stairs to the kitchen, his face impassive.

He yawned and reclined in his chair in front of the radio, eyes half-lidded. The rain fell harshly against the windows, making soft, tiny trails across the panes like quicksilver.

Train had turned on the kitchen lights. They shone dimly. The rest of the house was pitch-black.

"You have a plan, huh." Again, questions weren't necessary. Train knew the answer already—or at least part of it.

Creed smiled. "Don't I always?"

"Then what do you plan to do?" Train pointed to the music box he had found during the first "lesson". Creed had hoped that he would feel at least a little bit of satisfaction at finding the prize. The white and black cats' enthusiastic expressions on the box looked eerie in the thin light. "And what's this for, anyway? Something to make me feel better?" He snorted disdainfully.

"Temper, temper," Creed chided softly, feeling hurt at the bitter tone Train used, even though the first "lecture" was a week old. "I bought that for you with a child's help to cheer you up when you were gone."

"I hope the kid didn't have to—"

"No. She was simply being helpful."

Train snorted again. Creed sighed. He hadn't pegged Train as the type to hold a grudge for too long, but perhaps all that was needed was a bit of humility on Creed's part.

…Or an apology.

Train Heartnet wasn't the only one who could be stubborn. Creed was not one of the most feared Erasers for nothing—if he wanted something, he would have it, no matter how long it took. If he felt that what he was doing was right, he took no one else's opinion.

…Except for his partner's.

"I have a question for _you, _Train," Creed said, folding his arms over his chest. "If _you _want something from _me, _why haven't you said so?"

"Because it's _obvious._"

Creed chuckled wryly. "Well, if it's obvious, then at the moment I'm very dense. Care to explain?"

Train sighed and leaned against the table, looking irritated. "Look," he began, closing his eyes and breathing in slowly. "Look, in the beginning, I guess you could say I trusted you. If anything, I considered you a good friend and…well, you _did _teach me many things."

Creed leaned his elbows on the table, his eyes never leaving Train's face.

"I began to trust you. I felt that you truly meant what you said—that we would be partners, loyal to each other and each other alone. I had never…" Train looked at his hands.

"'Never'…?" Creed prompted, feeling his heart squeeze.

"…I had never let anyone get that close to me until you," Train continued, his voice subdued. "I felt that—even though you could be annoying. And then"—he let out a bitter, short laugh—"then, that damn _Echidna _came along, and shot everything to hell!"

"…Train…" Creed said softly, his heart seeming to shrivel.

Train's lips curled back into more of a snarl than a grin. "You realize now, don't you—? You broke my trust."

Creed, staring intently at Train, felt a chill crawl down his spine.

"Maybe your _other _partners didn't mind you sleeping with everyone you came in contact with, _but I do. _And until the day comes that you decide to put me before your damn _rules, _I am off limits."

Creed shifted in his chair.

"I'll learn what you have to teach me, I'll close my eyes and play your games, but it'll hurt like _hell _for you. Because you'll know that you won't have me the way you did before."

Creed stared at Train in shock as the rain continued to fall outside. It seemed to grow in volume until all he could hear was the endless _rat-a-tat-tat _of the drops falling.

He felt his throat constrict. He could hardly breathe. Train's words were painful—more so than a bullet to the heart could ever be. His heart beat to a steady mantra of _Why, why, why_ as he put his hand over his eyes. He forced himself to stay calm.

"…I see. That…explains things. Well. What would you have me do?"

Train laughed, and Creed dropped his hand to his side.

"That's easy."

Abruptly, Creed was confronted by Train's emotionless eyes. Train's lips were curled into a mirthless smile. The dim lights accentuated his casually threatening posture—his hands were hidden in his pockets, one knee thrust forward.

Creed suddenly thought of the old legend of Icarus—the foolish mortal who had attempted to fly to the sun with wings made of feathers and wax, but the wax melted in the sun's heat, and Icarus fell into the sea.

He could understand how Icarus felt as he gazed silently into Train's eyes, so much like the sun, burning relentlessly into his very soul.

"What you can _do…_" Train said softly, "…Is apologize."

"That's all?" Creed asked, before he could stop himself.

Creed shivered. Train raised an eyebrow.

Creed thought about asking Train what hewas planning, but decided against it.

"I'll be in the Jacuzzi."

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Creed relaxed in the Jacuzzi, wracking his brain for ideas of what Train might be planning.

He hardly noticed the bubbles, or the soothing warmth of the water. All he was aware of was the countdown to whatever Train had planned.

He forced himself to be patient. _Train knows he's tormenting me enough with his actions. I should at the very least give him a mental workout. Though I must admit, this is…irritating. _

Creed rubbed his shoulders, suddenly feeling cold despite the warmth of the bath. Train was more than stubborn—he was _determined _to get what he wanted, no matter what was in his way.

Creed had to admit that he was hardly pleased with Train at the moment—but then, he hadn't exactly been _nice _to him in the past few weeks.

Perhaps he deserved such a table-turned scenario.

As soon as the clock struck 7, Creed leapt out of the bath and dressed in his usual attire—a leopard-print shirt and black pants. He brushed his hair and walked out the door as quickly as he could while still maintaining grace.

_Let's see what you've got planned, Train…_

As soon as he headed down the stairs, however, he saw Train leaning against the railing, eyes narrowed.

"I told you I would call you down, remember?"

Creed shrugged. "I wanted to be punctual."

Train rolled his eyes and gestured toward the dining room. "Come on. I don't want Grey Cat messing anything up."


	36. Do ut des

Attention, all Creed/Train fans! I come with good tidings!

Two fellow ficcers and reviewers **Creed'sRose** and **reychop** both created a Creed/Train fan site entitled _A Cat's Blooming Rose. _Since I'm not sure if a link will work on this site, I would recommend simply typing in "A Cat's Blooming Rose" or "Creed/Train yaoi" to find it.

(Bows to them both) Thank you, **Creed'sRose** and **reychop**. I will presently be prowling the site, grinning like a maniac!

Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat, only this plot.

**Chapter Thirty-Five: Do ut des**

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"Do you like it?" Train asked, pointing at the kitchen table.

"…You did all this in an hour?" Creed asked, checking the date on the champagne bottle. _1923…a very good year. Impressive._

"I'm glad you slept in these past few days," Train answered coolly, sitting down opposite Creed and pouring a glass of champagne for him. "It made planning this pretty easy."

The candles flickered softly as the rain continued to fall outside.

"How very crafty of you." Creed couldn't help but grin.

He picked up his fork and took a bite of the delicious-looking dessert in front of him—a delicate-looking, cream covered specimen with caramel nestled in between the rich layers of cake.

"What can I say? I'm _your _partner."

Creed looked up at Train, who was smiling calmly at him, staring through the bubbles in his glass of champagne.

The rain continued to fall.

"What're we celebrating, might I ask?" Creed suddenly felt wary.

"Nothing in particular." Train's tone was too casual for someone who had only a short hour ago shown a great deal of passive-aggressive attitude. "Is the dessert good?"

"Yes." Creed smiled and took another bite. "Did you make it yourself?"

Train laughed, and Creed couldn't help but join in. "You know me better than that! No, I bought it at a bakery downtown."

Soon they began talking about the new book Creed had picked up that day—an annotated copy of Milton's work—and Creed found himself relaxing into the champagne and soft candlelight.

The phone rang.

"I'll get it," Train said, getting up from the table quickly and grabbing the phone. "Hello? Hmm? Oh"—Train's eyebrows rose, then lowered ominously—"Miss _Sepheria._ Yeah, we're doing fine. Things will start to quiet down soon, trust me."

Creed smiled slightly.

"So, you must have called for some reason." Train's voice lost its faux-friendly tone—not that it had been very believable to begin with.

Train rested the phone against his shoulder, scratching his neck in an irritated fashion while listening intently. The candlelight fell across his form, illuminating him in a warm, orange light. His eyes dimmed slightly as he listened to whatever Sepheria was saying on the other end of the line, performing a simple mantra of "Yeah" and "Okay" as he tapped his foot in soft rhythm against the carpet.

Creed felt that he could have watched that simple scene for many a day.

"We'll be there soon. How long do you think it'll take?" Train fell silent for a brief moment. "Right. Thanks."

He hung up, looking more than a little irritated.

"We've got a Mission, Creed."

Creed lowered his fork quietly, feeling the delicious food turn to grit in his mouth.

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_This Mission is too simple, _Creed thought, growling low in his throat as he sliced open yet another foolish guard. _They're testing us._

The blood splattered across his face, warm and sticky, only to be wiped away an instant later. Train was well ahead of him, firing repeatedly in an endless war rhythm, racing toward their destination.

Creed sped to in front of Train. "Go on, Black Cat, I'll take care of these fools. You just do what you have to do." He smiled at Train's surprised expression. "What, you thought I'd let my partner get held up in traffic?"

Train shook his head and shrugged, racing onward, calling out "Thanks!" above the roar of gunfire.

Letting Train take the lead once more, Creed turned back to the remaining fools.

They were a sorry lot.

Creed bowed formally to the group of charging hellions. "A pleasure to meet you all. I am the Prince of Death…and this…" he gestured grandly, watching their eyes widen, "…Is the ballroom of Hell."

In a flash he was cutting them down, showered in hot blood and the fools' remains. He laughed at the sight of their faces breaking down into nothing but bloodied bone fragments and skin. He moved like a dancer, leaping over one to cut open another.

After the first group was finished, another arrived.

"My, my," Creed drawled, wiping the edge of his sword. "Persistent, aren't you?"

He continued on his graceful, murderous way.

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Eventually, Creed felt that things were growing a little ridiculous.

It seemed that their Target—bless his little heart—had decided to stock up on guards in the past few days. They never seemed to end. In fact, Creed had to admit to himself that even he was growing weary of the constant fighting.

The river of blood had begun to get slippery.

He was also beginning to see younger faces among the guards—as though they had been nabbed off the streets, and enlisted to fight for the Target.

Creed found himself hoping Train had located and located the Target, completing the Mission.

It wasn't that he was sick of the beautiful _screams and blood_, per se, it was more that there could be only so _many _to decorate a parlor.

And Train was nowhere to be found.

Creed tiredly sliced through another guard and continued on his way through the halls, pleased at least to see that Train's handiwork was everywhere.

A few bullet casings were scattered about, glinting beautifully in the moonlight as Creed picked a few of them up, enjoying the feel of their smooth cool texture against his fingertips. He casually stepped over the corpses, going so far as to lift one victim's chin almost delicately with his foot.

"Did a little cat scratch you?" he cooed to the corpse's sightless face. "Did you scream nice and loud for him?"

The corpse didn't answer…but someone else _did. _

"You sick _freak!_"

Creed whipped around to see a guard, black suit bloody and torn, pointing a gun at him from behind. The guard had removed his shoes, making his approach silent.

Good Eraser material, that one.

Creed jumped out of the way as the trigger was pulled—but unfortunately was clipped in the shoulder. He hissed as the guard prepared to fire again.

"You're _stalling me!_" he roared, side-stepping behind the nearest door as the next bullet whizzed past him.

"You killed _my partner, you bastard!_" the guard yelled back, his voice hoarse with emotion.

Creed felt his throat clench. He could understand the guard's pain. He wouldn't be able to control himself either if Train was killed.

Creed couldn't help but pity him.

But pity could be manipulated. And Creed had _no _desire to be manipulated by the enemy.

Several of the guard's bullets hit the lights above them, dousing them in darkness. Creed could hear the man's shallow, fearful breathing only a short distance from him.

…Which gave Creed an idea.

As quietly as a snake, Creed sneaked from behind the door, listening intently as the guard's breathing grew louder. He moved on all fours, his movements hardly a whisper. He felt around for a few moments until he found the edge of the guard's foot. Directly behind the man, and smiling in the darkness, he slowly stood up.

He pressed Kotetsu to the man's back.

"_There _you are," he whispered.

Suddenly the guard's gun slammed into his wounded shoulder, and Creed yelped, backing away from him instinctually. He _hated _being tired—his reflexes weren't anywhere near on par, and if he was wounded, and Train was in trouble…

Creed realized suddenly that he was beginning to panic.

"Get _out _of my _way!_" Creed snarled, lashing out at the guard with his good hand, Kotetsu gleaming wetly with the blood of the past fools who had dared to stand in his way.

The guard stumbled forward, taking Creed along with him.

Kotetsu flew out of Creed's hand, and he felt his heart sink.

_That shouldn't have happened—_

They crashed to the floor and began kicking and punching desperately, trying to break free of each other's hold.

The guard dealt Creed a solid blow in the solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him. As Creed's hold slackened, the guard aimed his gun at his face, grinning maliciously.

"It's nice to see you on the ground, helpless. I'm sure my partner would like it."

_I'm going to die, _Creed thought numbly. _After seventeen years of living, scrounging, _surviving_, I'm going to die at the hands of a man I should have been able to kill easily._

_I didn't even get to eat that dessert with Train properly._

Creed blindly reached for Kotetsu, wanting to at least go down with the guard's blood on his sword.

No such luck.

He found himself winking saucily up at the guard.

"Don't aim for my heart, now. It's not yours to claim."

The guard laughed savagely. "I'm not listening to you, _rat. _This is for my partner."

A gunshot rang in the air.

Creed stared in shock as the guard toppled forward, bleeding from the chest.

…_What?_

"Took the words right out of my mouth, _rat._"

Creed smiled gratefully as Train walked slowly over to him. Creed gingerly sat up, cradling his shoulder. Train was in even worse shape than he was—he was bleeding from several areas, his hair was matted against his head, and he had a particularly becoming black eye.

"Train…?" Creed said fearfully, as Train wearily tossed him his cell phone.

"Call Chronos," Train ground out, collapsing beside Creed. "Tell 'em we're done. And dessert's waiting."

Creed watched numbly as Train's eyes fluttered closed, and he hurriedly began to dial up Chronos, hoping that they wouldn't be too late…

But before the last numbers were punched in, the phone fell from his hand.

The last thing Creed heard was the clack of sandals against the marble floor.


	37. Peccatum tacituritatis

Sorry about the wait, everyone. This chapter was the equivalent of giving birth to a iguana.

Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat.

**Chapter Thirty-Six: ****Peccatum tacituritatis**

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Creed awoke to a feeling of numbness in his shoulder, then the chill of ice.

All around him was darkness, save for a single flashlight off in the distance. The light came closer, along with the _clack, clack, clack _of sandals against concrete.

"Don't move, Mr. D, or the pack will come off. We don't want _that_, do we?"

Creed fought the impulse to crane his neck to see the light better, and the familiar figure holding it.

_It can't be…I'm 'hopeless' to her! But maybe it is…!_

"Saya?"

Saya's giggle permeated the silence. "Yep! It's a good thing I found you, isn't it? Your friend was in even worse shape than you!"

"…How long have we been unconscious?" Creed winced as Saya's face became clear in the glow of the flashlight.

"About a week or so. The pharmacist nearby really helped. You're almost healed already—though your friend might need a bit more time."

Creed suddenly felt the inexplicable twinge of jealousy. "Did you care for…his wounds?"

"Of course! Don't worry, Mr. D, I haven't stolen your true love away!" Saya's laughter began to grow fainter as she clacked away from him. "It'll be morning soon."

The room was suddenly illuminated by an electric light above him, and Creed could see that he was in a basement…a surprisingly clean one. He could see no cobwebs above him, and no dust was visible. It seemed that Saya took great care to keep it that way.

Saya soon returned, and Creed found himself smiling. "You haven't changed at all," he commented, chuckling as her face turned an innocent pink.

"I have _too!_" she said, pouting. "Look—I've got curves!" She twirled around, her plain white and pink yukata floating around her, more beautiful than any ball gown.

"_I _certainly don't see any."

Saya made a face at Creed. "You're still as rude as ever! I hope you aren't like that to your friend here, too!"

Creed blinked. "Train's here? Where?"

Saya laughed. "Right next to you! Look!"

Creed turned his head in the direction Saya pointed, and saw that Train lay on a cot nearby, but in shadow. He seemed to be sleeping.

Creed smiled. "I would neverhurt _him_ intentionally." His insides clenched as he remembered the "house-training" from only a short while ago.

Saya smiled back. "Good! At least you aren't hopeless in _that _department!"

Creed made a small "Hmm" of agreement. "Why are you helping me? I hurt you."

Saya closed her eyes for a moment, as though trying to find the words. "I couldn't let you be hurt, Mr. D. I'm not shallow like that. But…" She opened her eyes and smiled a soft, sad smile. "You have to do one thing in return."

"And what is that?"

Saya leaned over him.

"Forget about me. I'm going to forget about you. See, we both made a mistake. We both got mad, and hurt each other. We can't be friends that way."

Creed felt something wet—a tear?—fall onto his cheek. "Saya?"

"—So I want you to forget me. That way, when we meet again…we can start over."

Creed was about to reply, but felt his vision blurring. He tried to focus on Saya's face, her expression, but felt it slipping away as though through a thickening fog.

_That's not a happy ending…_

His eyes fell closed.

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Creed awoke to the sound of Train groaning.

"Train?" he asked, gingerly sitting up. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Train said, grinning as he sat up. "Whomever took care of us did a pretty good job, huh? You look good as new!"

Creed looked over his body and found that, just as Train said, the wound was fully healed. "Did you see who did this?" he asked, hoping that Train hadn't seen Saya.

In a way, he wanted Saya to be _his _secret—someone he wouldn't share with Train. Just like Train was someone he wouldn't ever share with Saya. _Ever. _They were both important to Creed on various levels—Saya was Creed's moment of remembering the past, while Train symbolized Creed's future—but they were best kept separate.

But then, who was Saya?

Train shook his head. "No, I didn't see anyone. I just woke up. How long have we been here?"

"I'm assuming it's been a week or more." Creed shakily got to his feet, testing out his shoulder. "Whomever did this did a really good job."

He cocked his head to one side, then the other to check for cricks. Creed noted that he was shirtless and found his leopard-print shirt on the floor beside his cot. He slid the shirt on, pleased at how clean it was, and watched as Train took in their surroundings. He was staring at the shadows as though daring for something to crawl out of them.

Train grabbed his black-collared shirt and tugged it on, hiding the few remaining bruises from view. Creed was pleased to see that Hades was still in its holster, strapped to his left thigh.

"Be careful, Train," Creed admonished, as Train tested his muscles. "You haven't been on your feet in awhile."

"Neither have you." Train smirked. "_You _seem fine, why can't _I _be?"

"You were hurt more than I was."

Train paused, then nodded solemnly. "Yeah."

There was an uncomfortable silence as they both remembered _why _Train got hurt. Creed hadn't been a good partner that night, and they had both paid the price.

Creed assessed the room quickly once again—bare walls, rustic wooden stairs, and no sign of Saya—and no other apparent exit. "Grey Cat's waiting. Although I suspect the dessert isn't."

"Yeah." Train sighed and scratched his head. "Maybe I should've—"

"—You had no way of knowing we would have a Mission, Train," Creed said simply, letting a warm tone soften his words.

Train stared at him silently for a moment, then shrugged. "I guess so."

"…Were you able to handle the Target and his guards?"

Train shrugged again. "They went down fast."

"Good."

As they walked up the stairs—Creed leading, Train following—Creed felt a sort of unease.

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Admittedly, Creed wasn't all that surprised to find that Grey Cat had been fed very well in their absence—a bowl of milk and a simple note of "He's a good kitty" showed that Saya didn't go back on her word.

"_Forget about me…"_

Creed shivered.

"_Saya", who? _Creed thought with fake innocence as he scratched behind Grey Cat's ears, taking the note and tearing it into shreds before grinding it underfoot.

The house, on the other hand, was not quite as clean as Saya's "infirmary". The furniture was covered by a thin layer of dust, which caused both Train and Creed to sneeze uncontrollably until they began to air out the house and clean things.

But first, Creed called Sepheria and told her that they were all right—they had been "postponed" from returning to Chronos by a few wounds, but a doctor had healed them. They would need a few more days off.

Sepheria, disgruntled, granted Creed's request.

And so, cleaning continued as they settled back in.

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Grey Cat helped hunt the few mice that had dared to scurry around the house in their absence.

Train brushed off the furniture, creating a fine dust cloud. He swept the dirt and dust outside onto the porch. The hot, muggy afternoon made his movements languid.

Creed reluctantly donned a white apron (not the frilly kind), and began a ferocious war with the cobwebs on the ceiling, grinning triumphantly as Grey Cat finished the eight-legged architects off.

Even though the cleaning was keeping them busy, Creed still felt a strange feeling of gloom permeating the house.

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It took another week before they began Missions again. The week was spent in quiet talks over meals and a few nights of stargazing. And then the nights of gunfire and screams resumed. Things were beginning to have some semblance of "normality".

It was a long time before Creed finally found the courage to ask Train his brooding question.

It was becoming obvious to Creed that Train no longer needed him by his side constantly. Train was growing stronger and more deadly than Creed had ever thought possible.

It wasn't that Creed was _weak. _On the contrary, he was as strong as ever, but his shoulder _still _wasn't quite functioning properly—there was a chance it would heal given more time. But there was no way he could be certain he could watch Train's back like a true partner until the shoulder was completely healed_. _

_There's only one thing to do._

"Creed."

Creed looked up from his solemn position at the balcony, leaning on the rail and gazing out over the city, taking in the soft, glowing lights.

Train was standing there, clad in a simple black t-shirt and jeans, hair tousled from sleep. He had taken an aptly named "cat nap" after dinner, and a half-hour later he was up and about. His gold eyes were still half-gummed with sleep, and he rubbed them with a frown that was almost childlike.

"Yes, Train?"

"You okay? You haven't been yourself lately." Train walked over to him and leaned on the balcony, his lips curled softly upwards. "Is it because it's been…what, three weeks or so since we touched?"

Creed chuckled bitterly and shook his head. "No, not really. It's that…"

Creed paused and searched for the words, uncertain. _Is this the time? Has Train guessed already? Should I wait? _

"Yeah?"

Creed sighed and shook his head. "No, no, it's nothing."

Train gave him a look.

Creed suddenly wondered if Saya would have a similar expression on her face. He pushed the idea away, knowing that chances were that she had indeed forgotten him.

Saya was no longer another thread in his web of relationships. Her thread had snapped off completely, pruned like one of his roses. Train's thread was beginning to fray, and Creed almost thought about giving the thread a swift, clean break.

But he wanted it to be Train's choice. He owed him that much, and he wasn't quitting yet.

"…I'm going to go practice." Creed turned and walked back into the house, leaving Train behind him.


	38. Peccatum tacituritatis Part II

Sorry about the wait, everyone! I have more free time now, and so I'll be updating more frequently. I'm also working on editing my novel at the moment, too. You can see my progress (and other fics) at my LiveJournal, which goes under the name "beda_chan" (without the quotes).

Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat, only this plot.

**Chapter Thirty-Seven: ****Peccatum tacituritatis Part II**

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Weeks passed, then months, and finally a year.

Train and Creed continued their Missions. Train, much to his surprise and pleasure, grew more renowned as the Missions grew steadily more difficult. The names "Black Cat" and "Creed Diskenth" began to turn heads, create a few wild rumors, and in general give Train an ego boost.

Everything would have been perfect save for one thing:

Creed _still _wasn't acting like himself.

The long, pleasant hours they had once spent together were now spent in solitude—Creed relentlessly honed his skills in the training room, while Train sat on the rooftop and fed Grey Cat fresh milk. Their meals were short and silent. Their Missions were routine and always successful. But the confident gleam that had once been in Creed's eyes was now gone. Even his sensuality was almost non-existent.

Train was beginning to get irritated.

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The conversations during the first few months of the new year went like this:

"We have a Mission."

"Mm."

"It's a big one. Think you can handle it?"

"Yes."

"Good."

And that was that. Or:

"Want to order out tonight?"

"Certainly."

"Fast food or Zipang?"

"Zipang."

"Cool."

"Mm."

And off they would go, in their separate bubbles of existence.

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Some things you simply don't treasure until they're gone.

Train often awoke at night cold and needy, hands grasping the small of a non-existent back. One would think that he would be _happy _that Creed wasn't bothering him anymore, not making him feel strange things, but the truth of the matter was the seduction had been a part of their partnership in the initial stages, how they grew and learned to understand each other. It seemed purely for gratification—_Creed's _gratification—but in the end Train missed that too.

It took him until November to properly address the situation…in a roundabout way.

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"What is it, Train?" Creed asked as Train walked into the small training room.

"Nothing. I just wanted to watch you practice," Train replied as he leaned against the wall, idly taking in the room.

It was surprisingly bare, save for one or two stuffed practice dummies (which had several stitches covering them). The floor was a sleek, polished cherry wood, with a few marks where Creed's Kotetsu had scraped across the surface. Creed's bare, pale feet merely brushed over it as he moved, swinging Kotetsu in a graceful arc.

The walls were white-washed and unadorned, and Train had a feeling that Creed had repainted them once or twice—only _he _would be so obsessive-compulsive as to not leave a single speck of the original color on the walls.

Creed was dressed in his usual leopard print shirt and black pants. The legs of his pants were rolled up to his knees, and Train viewed his slender legs, as pale as his feet. They were both growing out of their adolescent bodies. Train supposed it made moving a little easier, they were stronger after all, and as graceful as always. It was a deadly efficiency of movement.

Creed continued to whirl and parry imaginary blades, cut down imaginary foes, his expression so intense that Train had to repress a shiver. It had been awhile since Train had seen Creed's eyes that cold.

"When did you start practicing?" Train asked, for want of anything else to say.

"After lunch." Creed dove down on one knee and parried another onslaught.

Train watched as he apparently defeated the enemy with his usual ease. "That was four hours ago. Have you taken a break?"

"No rest for the beautiful, Train." Creed grunted as he twisted out of an invisible enemy's grip.

"At least you have your humor back." Train chuckled wryly in approval.

"Hm." Creed continued his imaginary battle.

Train silently watched as Creed stopped for a moment to wipe the sweat away from his eyes. Creed rubbed his shoulder absently, his expression solemn.

"How's the shoulder doing?"

Creed shrugged. "Better, I suppose. But it's not enough."

_That's interesting, _Train thought. It had been quite a while, and he thought the shoulder had healed…

Creed resumed his practice, and Train watched the way Creed carried himself—almost recklessly, like a man who doesn't quite know his own limits. He moved his shoulder with just a hint of trepidation.

Train raised an eyebrow. "Then what _is _enough?"

Creed's hackles abruptly rose, and Train could feel the air suddenly grow colder.

"I don't _know!_"

Creed dropped Kotetsu with a sharp _clang _that was jarring to the ears_. _

"Damn it!" Creed whirled and kicked the nearest dummy, sending it toppling over. "Damn it, damn it, _damn it!_ Why can't I be your _equal, _Train? What the hell am I _doing wrong?_"

Train stared at Creed in silence as he continued to rage and brutally kick the dummy, grinding his foot into what would have been its neck. He didn't know what to say—what he _could _say to bring Creed to his senses.

"Creed—"

"And don't try to play the fool, Train!" Creed seemed to visibly relax upon saying Train's name. "You_ know _that I haven't been up to par. You knew that the moment we went home. I've been trying to get back to normal, but it just doesn't seem…the way things _should _be."

Train caught Creed's frustrated gaze and clenched his fists reflexively. "What's your idea of 'how things should be', then?" he asked quietly.

"It should be…just _us. _You and I as equals. No one above or below—just us on the same ground. That's all."

Creed's reply was surprisingly simple, but then Creed had been very surprising lately.

"And working yourself to the bone is going to help you _how?_"

Creed drew himself up, his expression determined. "I'm going to be the best partner you could possibly have. I can't have _anyone _stand in my way."

Train shrugged. "Good answer, but you don't need to work _that _hard. From what I've seen, you're doing fine."

Creed blinked. "There's…nothing to improve?"

_He's relentless! _

Train let out a surprised laugh. "Creed, you've been practically avoiding me for a _year, _just honing your skills. I think you've done enough."

"But—"

"Oh, for _God's sake,_" Train growled, marching up to Creed and clamping his hands down on Creed's shoulders—he was almost as tall as Creed. "I can't _believe _you. You're supposed to be a confident, manipulative _romantic, _not the poster boy for OCD!"

Creed let out a hoarse, bitter laugh. "Is that what _you _want, then?"

Train froze.

Creed laughed again. "You just came here for sex, didn't you." His tone was knowingly mocking. "After all this time, when you said you 'wouldn't play my games', you now decide to make one of your own. Well, then, tell me the rules."

Train swallowed. "This isn't a game." He paused, focusing his gaze on Kotetsu, still lying on the floor by Creed's feet. "I'm worriedabout you."

Creed shook his head, smiling cruelly. "You've had all the time in the _world _to worry about me, to ask if I was all right. But lo and behold, you choose _now_ to care. An entire _year. _I do believe you've broken the record."

"It may have taken me this long to _ask, _but I've been worried about you ever since you didn't answer my question two summers ago!"

Creed smirked. "You know, if you just want sex, then this…what did you call me once? This _hooker _is ready to give you the pleasure of his company." He held his arms out in a welcoming gesture. "Well, Black Cat? What are you waiting for? Pounce."

Train froze. His mind slowly went through the process of anger, brief lust and sadness before he simply replied "No" and walked away.

As soon as he reached the top floor, Train ran toward the bathroom and retched into the toilet, his throat burning.

Another week went by in silence.


	39. Peccatum tacituritatis Part III

Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat.

**Chapter Thirty-Eight: ****Peccatum tacituritatis Part III **

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Train meticulously tapped the egg against the plastic bowl, cracking the egg open and letting the yolk slip into the bowl with a slight splash.

He dumped the cake mix into the bowl, then the milk, and began to stir. He felt his mind already wandering—it was so _boring _to him, following directions—but he didn't want to make any mistakes. No, _this _cake would be just as good as the dessert he and Creed _almost_ shared two summers ago.

Train continued to mix the batter, then poured it into a cake pan. Heating up the oven, he placed the pan inside it, slamming the door shut and checking to see if Creed was still training.

_Good. _

With that, Train quietly tiptoed over to the practice room, watching as Creed sheathed Kotetsu and took a quick breather. Creed looked tired for once—he was sweating slightly, his leopard-print shirt (_did he ever run out of them?_) clinging to his body like a second skin. His grey pants fared no better.

Creed sighed and sat down on the floor, eyes closed, legs folded, hands outstretched. He began breathing slowly: in…out…in…out.

Train stared in mute wonder. Suddenly the very air seemed to _shift_, to grow thicker, filled with Creed's presence. Somehow, there was a feeling of the supernatural about the scene.

Train felt his breath catch as gravity brought him slowly to his knees, the presence surrounding him, engulfing him…and completely derailing any plans he might have had. How very Creed-like.

As abruptly as it appeared, the presence vanished, and Creed's eyes were open and staring at him.

"What do you think?" he asked, his expression curious.

Train blinked. "What _was _that?"

Creed's lips curled. "My little pet project. Just like that cake you're making, only…more _spiritual_, I guess you could say. Those who practice it call it 'Taoism'."

Train raised an eyebrow. "Is it anything like 'hedonism'? As far as I can tell, _that's _a life-long project for you."

Creed shrugged and chuckled. "Oh, Taoism is quite different from that. You see, in Tao, you harness the energy inside you—your spirit—and give it a physical form. At least, that's what I've heard."

"I see." Train raised an eyebrow. "Is Tao as important as our partnership?"

Creed mimicked his expression. "Perhaps. Or maybe it could _strengthen_ it."

Train stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I'd rather strengthen it with our own hands. I don't believe in fairy tales."

Creed sighed. "Perhaps you should, Train. Who knows—we might have more in common with them than you think."

Before Train could ask him to speak in _English_, Creed had gone upstairs to his room.

The cake was frosted, nibbled lightly on by Train, and left in the fridge.

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"I'm going out," Creed said later that night, as he pulled on his shoes and headed toward the door.

"Where?" Train asked, scratching his chest and yawning. His long black shirt and pants were rumpled from sleep. His hair fared no better. "It's a bit late to be going out anywhere, isn't it?"

Train abruptly thought of a possibility for Creed's late night trek.

"You're not going to…_see _someone, are you?"

Creed smiled wryly. "You're such a lazy, suspicious Cat. Come with me, if you want."

"All right then."

Train ran his hand through his hair once and followed Creed out the door into the night.

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"So, where are we going, anyway?"

Creed looked over his shoulder at Train and grinned. "You'll see."

They ran through the streets, the moon slowly sinking away beyond the city buildings and far-off hills. Train found himself having to catch up to Creed. It occurred to him that Creed had been going on midnight walks for awhile, now that he thought about it. There were no pedestrians outside, thankfully, which made it easier to run in a straight line and follow Creed's footsteps.

The cobblestones were easy to trip over if you weren't used to them. Clearly, Creed was. Train blamed his occasional misstep on his half-awake mind.

Finally, they reached the outskirts of the city. There were no travelers on the road, only them. Train could hear crickets chirping, and the soft whisper of the grass blowing in the wind. It was a very nice sound, different than the usual honking horns of the city.

"So, is this what you wanted to show me?"

Creed shrugged. "Yes. I wanted to watch the dawn arrive. But now that you're here…I want to ask you something, Train."

"What?" Train asked gruffly. "Do you want to argue out _here_, too?"

"Not argue." Creed's smile was serene. "I wanted to ask you what you think…needs changing in this world."

"But we've been _arguing_. What makes you think I want to even talk _civilly_ with you?"

"You tried to do that this morning. I think you'll do fine. And afterward, if it makes you feel better, we can have a nice little shouting match over who's right or wrong."

Creed's sarcasm was unmistakable.

Train rolled his eyes. "Well…I think the world needs more milk. And more homes for cats. And strength. People need to be stronger."

"I see." Creed nodded, looking completely serious. "Anything else?"

Train shook his head. "What do _you _think this world needs?"

Creed smiled and put a finger to his lips. "It's a secret, though a rather small one. I'm sure it's quite obvious."

"Oh?" Train scowled at him. "I thought we weren't supposed to keep secrets from each other."

Creed chuckled. "Guess, then. I'll be nice and give you an unlimited amount of guesses."

"Why're you acting like such a kid tonight?" Train grumbled, sitting down in the grass and watching the stars wink above him. "It's weird."

Train heard Creed sit down a foot away from him. The grass tickled his ankles, and Train scratched them irritably.

"I'm not sure."

Train whipped his head around to face Creed, whose smile was bitter. "But you _always _know why you do things. You always give me reasons for why you act the way you do."

Creed didn't say anything. He simply stared up at the stars.

"I don't want to play your games. I'm going home." Train stood up and headed back to the city, hands in his pockets. "You'll catch a cold if you stay out too long."

"Home?"

Train turned around and looked at Creed, who was staring at him with the slightest hint of hope in his eyes. His hair was growing longer, Train noted, and would probably be cut soon. The faintest shade of red appeared on the horizon, giving Creed's hair a pink tint in the dawn. His lips were curled in a genuine smile, and his eyes didn't seem as cold as they usually appeared.

"Yeah. Home."

Train felt the sun begin to warm his back.

"…In a little while. It wouldn't hurt to stay here. We still have an argument, remember?"

Creed smirked. "True."


	40. Amantium irae amoris integratio est

I believe we're moving toward the end of this saga. Only two more chapters left, it seems. I'm already feeling sad about this coming to a close—but I hope all of you readers will see this through to the end.

Also, this chapter is surprisingly cheerful. I suppose it must be something in the air…or my cat purring.

Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat.

**Chapter Thirty-nine: ****Amantium irae amoris integratio est**

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"My, my, Train. I'm impressed. It turned out…_good._"

Train handed Creed his plate back, topped with another delicious slice of cake. "I guess arguments are good for something, huh?"

Creed shrugged. "Perhaps. We should have cake for breakfast more often." He speared a piece of the cake with his fork and ate it, a childish, gleeful smile on his face. "By the way…do you know what day this is, Train?"

Train's blank expression was enough to make Creed chuckle. "No. Should I?"

Creed leaned forward, smiling slyly. "It's the day of the city's festival. All members of Chronos have been encouraged to take the day off."

Train raised an eyebrow. "That's surprising. Sepheria's probably having a hissy fit."

"Oh, no, not at all. In fact, I made her a bet that she and Belze would be able to find _something _to relax them. I wouldn't be surprised to see her enjoying the mock-jousting tournaments…with Belze, of course."

"You think they're together, don't you."

"Obviously." Creed took another bite of cake. "But enough about them. What do _you _want to do today, Train?"

Train's shocked look was quite endearing. "I thought you would just drag _me _around."

Creed shook his head good-naturedly. "No, no. Consider it my gift to you for bringing me to my senses."

Train sighed. "Whatever. But let's avoid any of the Chronos Numbers if we see them, okay?"

_What an interesting response… _Creed pondered, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Certainly, Train. Whatever you want today."

"Too bad Grey Cat left," Train said with a sigh, staring at the curdling bowl of milk.

Creed smiled. "Oh, don't worry Train. He's more than happy right now. We'll be flooded with kittens sooner or later."

Train shrugged. "I just hope he knows where to find milk."

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The carnival was loud, bright, and thoroughly enjoyable, much to Creed's surprise.

One would think that Creed would loathe the ferris wheel, but Creed enjoyed slowly ascending to the sky, reaching out, as though to grab one of the clouds that floated above so tranquilly. But of course he couldn'treach them…He wanted to catch a falling star instead.

Train seemed to enjoy the roller coaster more, however. The wind buffeted his face, blowing his wild hair back and twisting the chocolate-brown strands to its whim. His golden eyes gleamed with a sort of beauty that could only come from a natural high, his cheeks were flushed with exhilaration.

Creed's heart raced when, as the coaster abruptly went on a loop, Train's hand reached out for his. He took it, and together they yelled as they swirled, sank, and launched back up into the air.

Even though Creed felt nauseated near the middle of the ride, it was all worth it.

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"Train, be careful," Creed admonished, as Train easily tight-roped along the wood railings of the bridge, black coat flapping behind him as he moved.

"Don't worry, I'll be fine," Train replied, his expression one of childish concentration as he put one foot over the other slowly, mapping out his next step in a rare moment of planning.

Creed sighed. "At least let me hold you steady."

"Fine. It's your job, after all."

"No," Creed said softly, as he took hold of Train's hand for the second time that day. "It's not a job, Train. It's a bond."

Train let out a soft chuckle. "Well, I guess you're right."

Silence prevailed as they continued their walk across the bridge. Children laughed and chattered as they ran past, taking care to avoid getting in Creed's way—apparently Train wasn't the only one with a solemn expression. Creed grinned as their parents rushed after them, warning them not to wander off too far. It was a nice break from all the foulness of the past.

_Better late than never, I suppose, _Creed thought as he stopped near the end of the bridge, forcing Train to stop as well.

"Train?"

"Yeah?"

"…I haven't talked to Echidna since that night. And…I'm sorry."

Train turned and looked at him, head cocked to one side. He said nothing, instead only stood and watched as the cold November wind swirled a candy wrapper past Creed's face, momentarily obscuring his golden gaze in a swirl of neon blue and silver foil.

_How oddly fitting. My own selfishness hid him from my view, and now…_

"It took you long enough."

Creed chuckled. "Sorry. You're not the only one who's stubborn."

"I guess so." Train gracefully leaped off the railing and continued walking beside Creed. "There. Now we're even."

Creed let out a surprised laugh. "I guess so."

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The carnival continued unabated, somehow converting the city into a miles-wide funhouse in a matter of hours.

Children played games, went on the various rides and ate candy. Adults watched the children and talked amongst themselves, perhaps even going so far as to participate in a few games themselves. The lovers, of course, went in the Tunnel of Love, where they said various romantic things and enjoyed some diabetes-inducing cuddling.

Train and Creed, in the meantime, tried their luck at the stalls.

"Let's do that one," Creed said with a knowing grin. "It'll be easy for you, I'm sure."

Train raised an eyebrow. "Air rifles? That's a little _too _easy. Why don't you do it?"

Creed shrugged. "If you insist."

Creed stepped up to the stall and picked up the nearest air gun, watching the bulls-eyes as they zipped back and forth beyond the row of stuffed animals. The barker took one look at Creed and subtly moved out of the line of fire.

Creed hefted the rifle and pointed it at the nearest bulls-eye, pulling the trigger without hesitation.

He nearly hit the bulls-eye right on, but was disappointed when it missed.

"Take a deep breath," Train advised from behind him, "and exhale when you pull the trigger."

Creed did as Train instructed. He laughed as he hit the bulls-eye perfectly. And another one as it passed by.

And again.

And again.

And—

"All right, all right, you win!" The barker laughed good-naturedly with just a hint of fear. "Now, what would you like?" He pointed to the menagerie of animals.

Creed turned to Train. "Well?"

Train pointed. "That one."

Creed stared at the plush arctic fox that lay nestled in between a turtle and a beagle. It's button eyes gazed down at him, black and fake. Its fur seemed a soft and pure untouchable white. It stood out from the other toys, stark and beautiful.

"All right," Creed said with a smile, and was rewarded the toy.

It was just as soft as he had expected. It was the sort of toy Creed often wished he had as a child.

Train's lips curled as he patted the artic fox plush's head. "It reminds me of you."

"Really? How so?" Creed asked as he adjusted its tail.

"It looks harmless, but in reality it's more resilient and deadly than people think. And…" Train gave Creed a knowing look. "They can also stand the coldest of temperatures."

"Are you saying that I'm furry?"

"Nah. More like you're very patient. You'll wait for the winter to be over, biding your time, hunting what you can, and then…"

"…I see. Well, what will we name her?"

"Him. It's definitely a guy."

"How can you tell?"

"He looks determined."

"_She_ looks confused."

"Does that make you a confused, fuzzy girl?"

"I certainly hope not." Creed sighed. "All right, so this is a _he. _What shall we name him?"

"Why don't you name him? He's yours, technically."

Creed patted the toy. "I'd like to think of him as ours. Call it a symbol of your forgiveness."

Train scratched his head. "Well, then…what about 'peace'?"

"'Peace'?" Creed asked. "Hmm…why not 'Pax'? It means the same thing, only it's a little more masculine."

Train stared at Creed, then down at the toy. "…Pax, huh? Sounds pretty cool." He ruffled the newly-named Pax's synthetic fur. "I guess we have a new knickknack."

"Shall we go home, then?" Creed handed Pax to Train, grinning at the way several girls cooed in admiration at the scene.

"Sure."

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As Creed and Train were about to head home, a person with a familiar face appeared.

"Creed Diskenth, Heartnet. I'm surprised to see you both here," Sepheria said from her position beside the lamp post. "I would have thought you were giving each other the silent treatment."

"The same to you, Sepheria," Creed replied courteously, giving a slight bow. "And I would have thought you and Belze would be harassing the game stall barkers."

Sepheria's scowl grew even deeper, if that were possible. "That is none of your concern. I am to inform you that your partnership is at stake."

Creed suddenly felt his heart constrict. "…_What_?"

"Your teamwork this past year has been lacking. It is clear that the two of you are not suited to be partners any longer."


	41. Ecce Signum

I'm going to include an extra section (not in this chapter) with the translations for the chapter titles, as well as a bit of a "Author's Forward" in which to give all of you lovely reviewers lots of sniffles and thank you's.

No, I'm not sniffling. Your monitors are deceiving you.

Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat, only this plot.

**Chapter Forty: Ecce Signum**

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"…It is clear that the two of you are not suited to be partners any longer."

Train turned to Creed, who turned to look at him. They were silent. Pax was still in Train's hands, his plush body steadily clutched tighter the longer Train stared at Creed.

_We can't let this happen. Not now._

Apparently Creed was thinking the same thing—his silver brows were furrowed, and his blue eyes held more determination than Train had even seen in them. The festivities seemed to be nothing but a dull roar in the distance.

Sepheria continued to talk as though their reactions were nothing. "You may voice your opinions of the situation if necessary." Her tone clearly stated that their separation was inevitable.

Creed arched an eyebrow at Train, inclining his head to Sepheria. His eyes were deadly cold.

Train understood.

They drew their weapons simultaneously—Kotetsu, smooth and silver in the evening light, and Hades, sturdy and ebony black.

Sepheria barely batted an eye. She drew her sword in an instant, gazing levelly at them.

"You wish to fight me."

"We wish to prove ourselves." Creed's voice was surprisingly casual.

Train couldn't help but smirk as Sepheria, letting out a battle cry, rushed forward.

It was Creed who moved first. The _clang _of steel hitting steel rang in the air, and soon the three of them were clashing and dancing like the mad folk of the festival. They made their way down an alleyway, avoiding the festivities. It was grimy, dark and empty—perfect.

Train slammed Hades into Sepheria's back as soon as they were in the shadows. Creed took the opportunity to back away from Sepheria's next blow. She recovered quickly, ruthlessly slamming her sword into Hades, attempting to knock it out of Train's hand.

Of course Train would have none of that. He deflected hit after hit with Hades' sides, while Creed crept behind Sepheria and dealt her a vicious blow to her shoulder.

Sepheria cried out in pain as she leaned forward, appearing mortally wounded. But she responded, spinning and lashing out viciously at Creed.

Train was transfixed as he saw the tip of her blade pierce the shoulder Creed had worked to rehabilitate. While the blow didn't _seem _lethal, one never knew with Sepheria.

_Damn it, _Train thought as he stepped in front of Creed, protecting him from Sepheria.

Sepheria clutched at her shoulder, but still seemed more than able to stand. "I'm wounded, Heartnet, as you can see. I am open to attack. However…" She pointed her sword at Creed's neck. "If you shoot, not only will you be responsible for the death of a Chronos Number—the _leader _of the Numbers, in fact—I will kill your partner."

Train stiffened.

"You have a choice: either defend your partner or kill me. Which will you choose…Black Cat?"

Creed hissed angrily.

Train paused, turning to look at Creed, then back to Sepheria. This was no time to be dramatic and wait it out. Sepheria looked serious.

"…What do you _think _I'm going to do?"

Before she could answer, Train fired a shot to her left. Sepheria recoiled involuntarily.

That was all he needed.

Train hauled Creed to his feet, who in the process managed to kick up some garbage—showering Sepheria with dirt and wrappers—and they vanished into the shadows like the assassins they were.

How Train still managed to hold on to Pax was anyone's guess.

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Creed patted the small bandage on his shoulder lightly, grinning. "I told you it was nothing, Train."

"Could have fooled me."

Creed couldn't help but laugh at Train's stern expression. _So much for his good humor…_

"Well, I must admit I didn't expect her to get up so easily." Creed shrugged. "Perhaps there's a bonus to being head of the Chronos Numbers."

Train's gaze turned toward the window, absently rubbing the bruises he'd gained. Creed stared at the wounds.

"Are you sure you're all right, Train?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Train said softly, still staring out the window. He pulled on his black shirt and buttoned it with robotic precision. He absently patted Pax's head, making the toy fall over.

Creed readjusted Pax, admiring the contrast of his white fur against the black of the couch. Train's eyes flicked back over to Creed with a hint of warmth.

The warmth abruptly cooled.

"Hey…do you think Sepheria will still go through with it?"

"She'd better not," Creed replied, letting a protective edge come to his voice.

"My thoughts exactly," Train said, reclining back in his seat, kicking his legs up against the new coffee table. "I'm surprised she hasn't called us yet."

"Yes," Creed replied, glancing over at the phone. "She's usually quite…"

As if on cue, the phone rang.

"…_Punctual_." Creed sighed. "I'll get it."

He picked up the phone on its second ring. "Yes, Diskenth residence, Creed speaking," he said, mildly amused at his uncharacteristically robotic tone.

"_The Leaders of Chronos have decided that perhaps…they were a bit too harsh. Creed Diskenth, your partnership with Black Cat is secure…for now._" Sepheria's voice betrayed no emotion.

"So, we aced the test?" Creed asked, leaning against the wall, feeling more confident than he had in awhile.

"_You could call it that. Your reactions toward your disbanding were…if not _unexpected, _at least slightly unnerving in their ferocity. I hope to see more of that spark on the battlefield for Chronos._"

"Oh, don't worry, Sepheria." Creed traced the shape of the white phone idly, smiling. "You'll be seeing it soon enough."

"_I'll have your next Mission sometime in the near future._" With a sharp fizz and crackle, Sepheria hung up.

Creed put the phone back on its receiver.

He took a deep breath.

He counted to five.

He spun on one heel, feeling his spirits rise like the festive champagne Train had drank at their first big Mission.

"_TRAIN!_"

Train jumped, clawed at nothing in midair, his golden eyes alert, his back curled, looking for all the world like a real cat.

"_WHAT?_"

He had drawn Hades in a flash, already pointing it at various corners of the room.

"Is Sepheria going to bring everyone else in Chronos for an attack? Did someone from our last Mission survive? Have cows stopped giving milk? _Are we still going to be separated?_"

Creed couldn't help it. He laughed and laughed, sliding down to the floor, feeling tears come to his eyes. He had never seen Train so…well, _flappable _before.

"No, Train," he gasped, "you don't have to be worked up."

Train stared at him. He lowered Hades and replaced it in its holster. His expression was cool and methodical again. He cocked his head to one side, looking miffed.

"What do you mean?"

Creed took a steadying breath and shakily stood up, still laughing softly. "I mean…there's no need to get worked up_._"

Train's eyes seemed to glow, and his posture slowly straightened. The faintest of smiles grazed his lips.

"I'm still stuck with _you_?"

Creed frowned. "And what's so bad about that?" His good mood seemed to shiver a little.

"Well…" Train stuffed his hands in his pockets, eyebrows raised. "We've been fighting so much, for one thing. You tried to seduce me, succeeded, and then _stopped_. You tried to house-train me. You put me in a dress. You _rescued _me. You treated me special on my birthday. You made yourself out to be _better_ than me. You also got me to audition for a movie."

_So many things… _Creed smiled at the memories as they flashed briefly before his eyes.

"I think all that requires some payback." Train stepped forward slowly, almost contemplatively, his bare feet brushing the carpet.

There was a soft _boom _outside. Creed's gaze turned toward the balcony, it's doors slightly open.

"Look, Train," he said, pointing. "Fireworks!"

Train was at the balcony doors before the last syllable had even left Creed's mouth. He shoved the doors fully open, clearly reveling in the sights and sounds of the multi-colored works of art in the sky as they illuminated the city. Creed followed suit and stood beside Train as the lights showered them: red, gold, blue. They were loud, certainly, and a tad garish, but their beauty went far beyond that.

Train turned to Creed, and Creed was stunned to find a small, _genuine _smile on his partner's face.

It felt _wonderful _to call them partners again.

"Tr—" Creed began, but stopped as Train's lips pressed against his.

He rested his hand on the balcony railing, steadying himself. Train's lips moved to his ear.

"Mmm," was all Creed managed to say.

"We should start over," Train said as he began to work at Creed's shirt. "Do things over again."

Creed didn't reply. Off came his shirt—it was chilly, but it didn't matter. "Isn't this a tad…_public_?"

"No. Everyone's out watching the fireworks. And no one will be able to see us, anyway."

Creed grinned.

In one dramatic motion, Creed sprawled out on the floor of the balcony, eyebrows raised in the come-hither look Train had little trouble remembering.

"Oh my, have I kept you waiting?"

Train scowled, but Creed saw that smile sneak back over his partner's face.

"Welcome back, Creed."

"Really, you should have just said so," Creed joked, taking the time to fold Train's shirt and place it beside his own.

"No. No, I _really_ don't think that would have been enough." Train ran his fingers across Creed's skin.

Creed raised an eyebrow…

"Don't even think about it."

Train's lips were warm on Creed's flesh, insistently exploring him: chest, shoulders, arms, fingers…

Creed sighed as Train thoroughly tended to his fingers, making every vein in his digits tingle.

Train's lips curled around his thumb, sucking lightly on the pad before moving on.

In a short time Creed's fingers were curled around the rungs of the balcony, as the fireworks faded away, with Train…well, it didn't really matter _what _Train was doing. They were together, things were being settled, and life felt better than it had been in a long time.

And his roses were blooming, in reds and blues and other colors just as vibrant as the fireworks.

Train's hands were steadying him, warm on his cold flesh. It was chilly for November, but Creed felt hot and sweaty, the droplets clinging to his skin.

"Train…"

"Mm?"

Looking deeply into Train's eyes, Creed uttered a soft murmur of pleasure as Train stared up at him, eyes half-lidded. His lips were curled so very _devilishly_ that Creed was suddenly reminded of himself.

"I…I think…we don't have to start over. We can continue on, remembering everything that happened. We have to, otherwise we won't…learn from our mistakes."

Train sat up, one side of his face illuminated by the light of their house—_their _house—the other lost in shadow save for one smoldering golden eye.

"You're right."

Creed smiled and leaned forward. "Let's ring in a new year together, hmm?"

"It isn't New Year's Eve."

_So very blunt… _Creed chuckled and caressed Train's face. "For our partnership, it certainly is." He put on his best naïve look. "_Please, _Train?"

"…Later. Would the Casanova-wannabe Creed Diskenth remain lying down?"

Train pounced, sending Creed flat on his back once again, one hand behind him to keep his head from smacking against the floor.

_He really has become a bit like me…_

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The next morning, Train awoke to Creed's arms wrapped around him, lukewarm but comforting.

He blinked. _I must be dreaming. Creed never sleeps in._

Train reached out and gently touched Creed's face, amazed at how strangely alluring Creed looked when asleep…a man-child, as his poetry books would say. Creed's hair was partially obscuring his eyes, silver and soft.

They were surrounded by dark red rose petals, giving the room a sweet, almost enchanting smell. It had been so long since Train had smelled the scent of a rose, or seen a rose in Creed's hand…

The sun slowly filtered in through the window, illuminating their position. Train enjoyed the contact of skin on skin. It was an unfamiliar but welcome intimacy, surprisingly…

Creed's eyes slowly opened, a cloudless blue, like the summer sky.

"Good morning."

"Morning."

There was a comfortable silence. Creed's fingers slid over Train's XIII tattoo in soft, soothing strokes.

"Train?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you remember the first time we met? What I said when you asked what would happen if you said 'no' to me?"

Train wracked his brain. "You mean the whole 'it depends on how you refuse me', bit?"

"Yes." Creed sighed and sat up, stretching out luxuriously.

"There will come a time when we come to blows, Train. That's just natural. _However, _if I do something…_foolish_"—Creed chuckled good-naturedly, always a good sign—"you will do your best to make me come to my senses. I will do the same for you."

_That sounds familiar… _Train thought, but didn't press the subject. He sat up as well. "All right, then. Agreed."

Creed smiled. "Thank you, Train."

Train shrugged. "Just don't go sleeping with anyone else in the future."

Creed tapped his fingers against his lips. "…About that…"

Train suddenly had a strange feeling in his stomach. "Never mind. We'll have plenty of new mistakes to make."

Creed raised an eyebrow. "Would these 'mistakes' happen to involve any of those _new _tricks I taught you?"

"_No._"

"Really?" Creed leaned back against the headboard. "You certainly seemed eager last night."

He picked up the rose in his lap and twirled it around in his fingers, careful of its thorns.

"Sicko."

"Pot calling the kettle black…_cat._"

**FINIS. **


	42. The Author’s Final Words On The Subject

**The Author's Final Words On The Subject**

**By**

**Godell**

Disclaimer: I own my comments. I found the majority of the chapter titles at "yuna . com", which has a wide selection of Latin quotes and sayings, so in a way I don't own them. Of course, I also don't own Black Cat.

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So. Here we are.

Lewis Carrol once said that the best way to tell a story is to "begin at the beginning, go on until you reach the end, then stop". I'll try not to keep you all too long.

Usually when I write—be it original work or fanfic—I can vaguely remember how I found the ideas for my stories. The odd thing about _Amantes sunt Amentes _is that it seemed to crawl right out of my head, with Creed tumbling out of my subconscious (Train in tow, of course), smiling like a cat with cream and already sitting comfortably on my writing desk.

I blame it all on the fact that, in many ways, it often feels as though the creator of Black Cat (Yabuki Kentaro) and I are hooked up by some invisible "idea wire" in regards to characters.

The very first time I saw Creed in particular, I literally did a double take. It was as if Yabuki Kentaro had taken a favorite character type of mine (the wicked gentleman), tweaked him a little into a more-than-a-little-unhinged guy who wanted to rule the world due to his traumatic past. He even went so far as to give him my favorite flower for villains (a rose) and a flair for the dramatic. My cheeks hurt from grinning so much.

And _then, _to add icing to the cake, Creed came through Train's window to visit him in episode 3.

Train, prior to this event, seemed like your typical anti-social bad boy who got his job done. Partner? What partner? Train Heartnet worked alone, and don't you forget it. (And yes, both sides of Train are also types of original characters I enjoy writing).

But then Creed came into the picture, and Train began to talk. It was in short, gruff sentences, yes, but he and Creed had the most tense, subtext-laden dialogue of the series so far (complete with the dub line from Creed "I have to hand it to myself, I trained you well"). Granted, that might be a discrepancy from the dub (Creed says something quite different in the subtitled version), but it still made me think.

I let my observations lie for the time being.

An episode passed, and then it was the infamous episode 5. From Creed's tears to his innuendo-filled lines of "Care to leave Hades in your _pants _for now?" and "It's there…the door to tomorrow…to a bright future…a future with _you _[Train]! _Can't you see the glory? _Can't you _see _what a _wonderful day this is?_"

I would like to say that it was episode 5 that made me write the first chapter to this fic, but I'm still not sure. I know that I was busy for a few days after watching the first six episodes of Black Cat, and I know that Creed and Train's relationship intrigued me to no end, but when I truly started to form ideas for _Amantes sunt Amentes_, I'm not sure. But somehow, it happened, and I went to work. And the rest is history. Or rather, _theirstory_. (Oh, look, a pun! How charming!)

I'm sure all of you are practically running away screaming right now, so this "theirstory" lesson is over. Come back! Don't go into the light!

Now for the most important thing(s)—the chapter title translations and the big thank-you's for everyone.

I know that there are readers out there who haven't reviewed (but have favorite'd instead) and so I will attempt to make this as large a thank-you as possible without mentioning the rather…_intimidating _(in a good way) amount of readers.

For the record, this is the second largest number of reviewers I've had (at this current count of 115) with the most favorites, alerts and hits. I'm still trying to wrap my head around that. And I'm also trying not to sound like a megalomaniac.

_So. _Here is my thanks—_one last snippet _of Creed and Train (in present tense, no less).

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Creed tosses crumpled balls of paper every which way, sighing and leaning his head on his ornate desk.

"What's up?" Train asks, still cleaning Hades from his position by the window.

"Oh, nothing," Creed replies automatically. He picks up his rose and twirls it in his hand thoughtfully. "Just a case of writer's block…in a sense."

"How so?"

"Well…" Creed says, running his hand absently through his hair. "Have you ever wanted to thank people personally for their time, but there are so many of them you don't want to leave any of them out?"

Train pauses. "No."

Creed chuckles. "I thought you would say that." He leans back in his seat and cranes his head to look at Train. "Any suggestions?"

Train scowls. "You're asking _me?_"

Creed raises an eyebrow. "I distracted the targets last night to buy you enough time to reload Hades. One good turn deserves another."

"Well, at least it has nothing to do with—"

"Train, Train, Train, you should know by now I'm not _that _needy. Really, you act as though we make the beast with two heads everyday!"

Train sighs. "The neighbors called. They want to know when we're going to get a new bed."

Creed sits up, looking outraged. "How _rude._" He grabs Kotetsu's sheath and attaches it to his belt. "I'll be back, Train."

"You're not supposed to kill any innocents, Creed. Sepheria warned you."

Creed smiles. "Oh, I won't _kill _them. Persuade them otherwise, yes."

"…Weren't you supposed to be working on your thank-you note?"

Creed turns and heads out the door. "Oh, no, no, that's only due in a few hours."

"…Creed?"

"Mm?"

"You're procrastinating."

"See you soon, Train!"

And Creed is out the door, with Train behind him in a rare moment of role-reversal.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now, for the second-most important thing: chapter-title-translations!

**Mirabile Visu: Wonderful to behold**

**Pari Passu: With equal pace—moving together**

**Obiter: In Passing**

**Svi Generis: Of it's own kind, unique**

**Aude Sapare: Dare To Know**

**Aurea Mediocritas: The Golden Mean (An ethical goal; truth and "good" is often found in the middle)**

**Pace Tua: With Your Consent**

**Paucis Verbis: In a few words**

**Pro Forma: As a matter of formality**

**Facta non Verba: Deeds, not words**

**Pares cvm paribvs: Like persons with like persons (Birds of a feather flock together)**

**Erro: To wander, stray, rove/be mistaken**

**Omnia Munda Mundis: Everything is pure to pure ones**

**De Bene Esse: It shall be so, as it is well**

**Vir: Hero**

**Post Tenebras Lux: After the darkness, light**

**Placebo: I will please**

**Regina: Queen**

**Inservio: to be a slave/serve/devoted to**

**Epistula: A letter**

**Do ut des: I give so that you give back**

**Peccatum tacituritatis: Sin of silence**

**Amantium irae amoris integratio est: The quarrels of lovers are the renewal of love**

**Ecce Signum: Behold the proof**

And lastly…

**Amantes sunt Amentes: Lovers are lunatics**

Thank you—_all _of you readers—for seeing this through with me. I'm glad you had fun.

Yours,

Godell


End file.
